The Difficulty in Finding What They Call Beautiful
by atlaswhite
Summary: Swindle discovers something on one of his exploits that he decides to try and sell to the highest bidder. But as tough as it may be dealing with his find, nothing's truly impossible to sell. Some things are just more difficult than others! Swindle/Wasp
1. Chapter 01: Discovery

_**Swindle & Wasp - The Difficulty in Finding what They Call "Beautiful"**_  
_Chapter 1_

Swindle hummed an idle tune as he walked, scanner in servo, keeping a careful eye out for any hidden treasures he could sell. According to the scanner, there was something nearby emitting an energy signal, and currently he was scouting around in the hopes that it could be something he would be able to get a pretty nice price for.

The scanner began to beep loudly then, alerting him to the presence of an object nearby. Swindle smirked, and headed in the direction the device indicated to investigate.

He peered over the grounded meteorite between himself and the object, but as he did his expression fell, for the sight that greeted him there was not something one would call 'treasure' by any means, even by Swindle's standards. Instead, there sat a strange creature, huddled against itself, murmuring nonsense incessantly.

"What in the slag?" Swindle asked aloud.

Reacting to the sound of his vocal, the strange creature looked up, showing its unusual violet optics. It blinked, a look of confusion on its faceplate.

"Who are you?" It asked nervously. "What you want with Wasp?"

Swindle looked it up and down, taking a moment to consider just what the odd thing was before answering it. It had the energy signature of a Cybertronian, an Autobot, to be precise, but it spoke like a much more primitive life form and carried itself in an unusual manner.

Well, it didn't matter. He was sure he could benefit from the meeting _somehow_.

"So, is Wasp your name?" Swindle asked, in a sly effort to look at friendly as possible.

"Yes, that is Wasp name," The creature answered. "But who are you?"

Swindle walked around the meteorite and stood before Wasp to introduce himself. "I am Swindle, just a simple trader on my way back from Earth." He said, with a pleasant bow. "And you, Wasp. Where do you come from?"

Wasp shied back and hissed at the intruder. "Wasp come from nowhere," He snapped. "Wasp nobody. Swindle-bot go 'way, leave him alone!"

Well, Wasp certainly did not want company. And he probably did not have anything valuable unless it was small, round, and shiny, Swindle guessed irritably. But maybe someone would want Wasp himself, perhaps for a pet, slave, or experiment.

He was a handsome-looking creature, after all, even if he was more than a little strange. Perhaps, Swindle decided, if he could get Wasp to trust him just enough for him to be able to get him back to his ship, he could clean him up and find him a buyer. He could at least make a little cash off of him, if not much.

"Say, Wasp," He purred. "If you have no place to go, why don't you come along with me? You look so hungry... I have some food with me, and a nice, warm place to recharge, too."

Wasp hissed, louder, and backed away. "N-no," He growled. "Wasp not want to go with strange Swindle-bot. Go 'way, leave him alone!"

Swindle was undeterred. He knelt down and drew out a very small energon cube, offering it in the palm of his servo.

"Here you go, Wasp," Swindle said soothingly. "Take it. You can trust me... err, _'Swindle-bot'_."

Wasp continued to eye him warily, then rushed forward suddenly, pouncing on the small cube. Swindle had been right; Wasp was very hungry.

*****

What the merchant didn't know, was that Wasp had had no energon and little recharge since he had escaped the Elite Guard brig well over half a lunar cycle ago, and now he was weak and tired. His violet optics were dimmed and he felt weary and achy.

He was more than happy to accept the small cube, even if he did not trust this 'Swindle-bot' or want to follow him wherever it was he was going. It felt good to have just a little in him, even if it was not enough to keep him going for much longer. And Primus knew he didn't have long before the lack of energon caused his systems to fail completely.

"See?" Swindle said. "Swindle-bot won't hurt Wasp, I, err, [i]he[/i] wants to [i]help[/i] Wasp. Swindle-bot [i]friend[/i]."

Wasp eyed him warily. Trust was not something he had in abundance, to be sure. And he certainly was not about to going with strangers again, not when, the last time he had been taken somewhere by strangers Swindle-bot's size, he had been thrown in the brig for stellar cycles on end for a crime he didn't commit.

Wasp hissed again and backed away further. But he could not deny the pain that wracked his frame from stellar cycles of abuse from other inmates, or the weariness, or the aches of starvation that dogged him.

Swindle drew out a few more cubes, and finally, after just cycles of gazing at those life-giving cubes, Wasp could no longer resist. He darted warily toward Swindle, crouching in front of him like an animal to take and devour the cubes.

"So?" Swindle asked coolly, "Do you want to come with Swindle-bot, Wasp?"

Wasp put on a pout. "Fine." He said. "Wasp come with Swindle-bot. But he watch you! Swindle-bot not lock up Wasp or try to hurt him, no! He not touch Wasp panel either!"

*****

Swindle was surprised by this. _His panel?_ He thought. _Why would he be concerned about that? Unless, somebody...? Hmm... Could explain why he's so slagged in the processor, but..._

"Don't worry, Wasp." Swindle said reassuringly. "Swindle-bot won't lock you up or hurt you in any way at all. He won't touch your panel either."

"Good." Wasp snorted. "Then Swindle-bot give Wasp more energon!"

"I will, I will." Swindle assured him.

Wasp followed at the weapons merchant's side, and it almost surprised Swindle when he walked on his peds instead of on all fours, even if he was slightly hunched over. Still, he thought, perhaps he shouldn't be quite so hard on the creature. Even if he was a bit of a "_fixer-upper_".

Nevertheless, Swindle took Wasp back to his ship, and fixed up the small Autobot-creature a place to recharge and a bowl of the small cubes. Wasp accepted these things eagerly, and even seemed to be getting somewhat used to the merchant.

Swindle left him to his own devices while he finished his treasure hunting, leaving his security system active to monitor Wasp in the meantime and make sure he didn't try anything funny, since he could not lock him up. Once he returned later that evening, ready to leave for the next planet, he first went back to the place he'd fixed up for Wasp to check on him, and found the small creature curled up in stasis, peacefully recharging, the empty, overturned bowl under his head as a pillow.

It was common to see the merchant grin or smirk, but a pure, genuine smile was a rare, rare thing. Not much in the universe was enough to evoke a feeling of warmth or happiness in a spark as cold and shallow as his. That made this moment an amazing and one-of-a-kind sight, if only someone had been there to see it.

A smile crept slowly across Swindle's faceplate, and he sighed. The sight was something that even he processed as '_cute_'.

He had indeed benefited from this meeting, and perhaps finding a buyer for Wasp would not be so hard. But would selling him?


	2. Chapter 02: Reflection

_Swindle & Wasp – The Difficulty in Finding What They Call "Beautiful"  
__Chapter 2_

By the time Swindle arrived at his next destination, any stupid notion of keeping Wasp for himself was long since forgotten. The odd creature was sort of cute-ish, in his own way, but Swindle had not the time nor patience nor desire for a pet of any kind, even of the dubious-Autobot variety. Besides, money was far more important.

Instead, he now had to focus on cleaning up his little find and prepping him for sale. The better shape Wasp was in, the more money he could get for him, after all, so if he wanted to make a decent profit, he was going to have to put in a little effort.

For now though, he had a little free time. Leaning back in his seat, Swindle instructed the ship's computer to begin flying on autopilot; he had been flying it manually for a good while now, and was starting to get tired. It was time for him to take a break and let the ship do the flying for a while.

With a soft sigh, he put his servos behind his helm, lifting his peds and setting them on the control panel. He switched off his optics and, though it was another rare thing for him, just relaxed.

He hadn't really intended to recharge, only to rest his optics for a while. But all the same, he found himself coming out of stasis sometime later, to find a pair of triangular purple optics staring back at him.

Swindle jumped, giving a startled yelp. Numerous weapons embedded in his plating snapped up, ready to fire at the thing that had surprised him; being in such a shady business, he had to be constantly prepared to fend off trouble.

"Swindle-bot on?" Wasp asked, tilting his head to one side. "Wasp hungry."

Swindle groaned audibly, glaring at the smaller as he put his weapons away and sat up, brushing Wasp off of his perch on the merchant's chassis with a single servo.

"Don't ever _do_ that!" Swindle snapped. Wasp recoiled, and Swindle sighed, correcting himself gently. "No, no… Ah, Swindle-bot might have accidentally _hurt_ Wasp. So, he shouldn't sneak up on him that way. See?" His voice was dripping with manufactured care and affection, and the smile on his face sold it.

Wasp climbed into the seat next to Swindle's, and sat there in an almost animal fashion, hunched forward on his knees with his servos between them. His alert optics darted about as he took in the sights, and sounds, of the ship's cockpit.

"Sorry Wasp wake Swindle-bot." Wasp said. He glanced out at the sea of stars around them and asked, "Where we going?"

"Back to Swindle-bot's home," Swindle answered without hesitation. "Swindle-bot told Wasp we were going somewhere he'd be able to get food and shelter, right? Well, that's where we're going."

Wasp seemed to accept the answer, and turned his helm away from the weapons merchant to watch the stars lazily drift by.

Swindle stretched and got up. Well, he'd had a good rest, but now he had work to do. After all, the sooner he had Wasp ready, the sooner he could sell him. He'd made a few calls after Wasp had gone into stasis, and already he had several offers on the little creature.

First things first, though. He still had to feed the little nuisance.

Swindle made his way down to the storage area to collect some more energon cubes, stopping first at Wasp's temporary room to retrieve the bowl he'd used before.

Walking down the hall, the still-empty bowl now in servo, Swindle let his processor wander a bit. The last planet he'd been to had caused him nothing but trouble, but hopefully that wouldn't be the case with his next stop.

Thanks to just one small, yellow Autobot, his plans had gone up in smoke. After that, he'd been drained completely of his strength and taken away by humans.

Fortunately, however, the tiny organics were primitive and stupid, and their attempts to scrap him had been futile. Had they really thought that their simple machinery could harm his Cybertronian body, especially when he'd enhanced it the way he had? Hah! It had been a pathetic and frankly very insulting display.

The effects of the timepiece were far from permanent without his own invention to amplify it, and so, over time, he had regained his strength and simply let himself out of the holding area he'd been placed in.

And now, he was already back in the game. Life had its difficulties sometimes, but in the long haul, things were still going swell for him.

Swindle put his free servo on a luminescent pad by the storage bay door to let it read his energy signature. With a beep, it released the lock, and the door slid open automatically.

******

Back in the cockpit, Wasp was still busy looking out at space.

Unlike Swindle, he did not prefer to consider the conditions that had brought him here, instead trying to forget everything that had happened to him. His limited mind considered very little in the long run, his foremost thoughts being survival and revenge, though he rarely cared to remembered why it was he wanted the latter.

Wasp was still rather young, but his sanity had long since left him to think very much like an animal. He had, at one point, been quite intelligent, if more than a little mean-spirited, but little of that could be seen now, as he traced patterns between the stars with a digit on the display, playing a game of "connect-the-dots" with the distant lights.

The yellow and green of his faceplate and helm reflected faintly on the glasslike material, illuminated by the bright purple of his optics. It was not long before Wasp noticed this, and became captivated by his own image.

He still would not remember why, but dimly, he thought he recalled once having blue optics, instead of the brilliant purple he now had. Weren't blue optics a definitive trait of some kind…?

The sound of the door hissing open behind him caught Wasp's attention. He whipped around to face the source of the sound, hydraulic muscles tense and body ready to pounce. Seeing it was only Swindle-bot, Wasp calmed and sat down, this time on his behind, his legs spread out with servos planted between them.

Swindle-bot smiled at him and approached, holding another bowl full of the small energon cubes.

"There you go," The taller mech said, presenting Wasp with the bowl.

Wasp snatched it away and put it in his lap, his legs crossing around it like a protective wall as he began to ravenously devour out its contents, careless about the mess he was making.

******

When Wasp finished eating, he tossed the bowl onto the ground and turned back to keep looking at the stars, disregarding all the luminescent purple crumbs he had gotten on his face and on the floor and on the chair and on his own self.

Swindle frowned at the mess before giving an agitated sigh. He had known that things like this would happen as he prepared Wasp for sale, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with. Good thing he had been able to snag such nice offers, or he would be considering throwing Wasp right through that window right about now.

Slowly, he crept toward Wasp, his heavy peds quieted by careful steps. Servos raised and bent like claws, Swindle sneaked closer, and closer, until suddenly, he pounced, grabbing Wasp up into his arms.

The small green creature gave a loud, startled cry and began to struggle violently in Swindle's arms, making his disdain for the situation well known, kicking and biting and flailing for all he was worth.

"Relax, relax!" Swindle said. "I'm just taking you downstairs."

"Why!?" Wasp demanded, almost in a frenzy. "And why Swindle-bot grab Wasp? Why he startle him? Why he not let him go!?"

"Well," Swindle said smoothly, his voice like silk. "It's just that, since Wasp made such a mess, it's time for Swindle-bot to give him something called a 'bath'."

Wasp's effort to struggle redoubled. Ah, so he _did_ know what a bath was.


	3. Chapter 03: Hydrophobia

_Swindle & Wasp – The Difficulty in Finding What They Call "Beautiful"  
Chapter 3_

Water, as Swindle was quick to find, was not exactly Wasp's favorite thing. In fact, the closer the weapons merchant tried to get the Autobot-creature to the water, the more panicked Wasp became, thrashing madly to try and get away from the liquid.

Swindle gripped his captive's lower chassis tightly, Wasp's slender, lithe body encased in his strong servos. He was not about to let go, especially knowing how difficult it would probably be to catch him again now that Wasp was aware of his intention to bathe him.

Finally, the tall merchant managed to force the possibly-Autobot into the tub, submerging most of his body in the water. Wasp began to curse and screech loudly, continuing to thrash, blindly flinging water everywhere.

"Calm down, calm down," Swindle said gently. "Hush now, there, there…"

"Wasp _hate_ water!" Wasp cried. "Swindle-bot get Wasp out of water _now_!"

"Just as soon as I—_Swindle-bot_ gets these crumbs and this grime off of Wasp." Swindle answered, still easily keeping a cool appearance in spite of his own agitation.

Wasp wasn't exactly in a listening mood, and he responded by biting Swindle's servo. Swindle narrowed his optics, unamused by this, but took the opportunity and started to scrub off Wasp's helm with his other servo.

******

Wasp reached up with his servos to try and stop the merchant, refusing to let go with his mouth all the while, but Swindle-bot continued to calmly, gently wash the green helm, hoping to calm him down. However, this was not to be the case.

Dental plating ground harder and harder into Swindle-bot's servo all the while, until finally it broke through the living metal, drawing forth a thin trickle of violet fluid. The weapons merchant gave a soft hiss, and Wasp, taking this as a sign that he was succeeding in causing his 'attacker' pain, began to bite down even harder, his dental hardware digging into the servo.

But, to Wasp's surprise, Swindle-bot did not respond by jerking away or by trying to strike him, instead keeping a firm grip on Wasp's chassis and continuing to scrub his helm, working his way down to his neck. This sorely disappointed Wasp, who had been hoping for some sort of way to escape the wet all over him, but no better plan presented itself to his limited mind.

So, Wasp finally settled down. What else could he do? Struggling was just a waste of his energy, since he was clearly outmatched by the much larger Swindle-bot. All he could do was continue to bite the servo that still gripped his chassis and wait out the awful bath.

******

The scrubber slowly moved down Wasp's body, gradually removing caked grime and flecks of energon to reveal a deep emerald green with a near-reflective sheen, and full golden yellow that had looked almost brown before. Swindle was pleased with the look of Wasp's true colors, especially since they had looked so dull and unappealing before, and since he knew that this only upped his value more.

Wasp was a beautiful creature to look at, underneath the grime and wear on his young body. He was slender, with a reasonably strong frame, and a certain strong feral air that his animalistic behavior only aided.

If only he would get his fangs out of him.

Swindle's servo slid down Wasp's side, his thumb digit running over his striped midsection as he dragged the scrubber along Wasp's body. He still felt pain in his other servo, but it was easily ignored. Oddly, Swindle felt temptation nagging at him as he cleaned the lithe form.

He pulled Wasp up with his hurt servo and continued to clean with the other, still working his way down. As he brushed Wasp's hip joint, the stilled creature screeched back to life, kicking and thrashing with a vengeance in his renewed fear and anger.

"Calm down!" Swindle exclaimed, before continuing calmly, "Didn't Swindle-bot tell you he wouldn't touch your panel? I'm, he's just going to wash you up, promise." Sheesh, did this whole third-person thing really have to be so damn hard?

Wasp didn't accept that either, and continued to struggle, leaving Swindle to have to keep washing him in spite of the kicking. It was something easier said than done, but, with patience, Swindle eventually succeeded in cleaning the hip joints and the protector just above his panel, leaving the area, just as he'd promised, completely untouched. Whoever bought him would just have to clean the area himself, Swindle decided irritably.

And, although it was just as much of a fight, Swindle managed to scrub every centimeter of those long, lanky legs, covering them in suds before suddenly dunking the entire creature under the water, submerging him over his helm.

Startled, Wasp released Swindle's servo, and, now finished with his cleaning, Swindle released Wasp. The smaller burst up out of the water, sending a shower of shimmering drops into the air, across the floor, and all over Swindle. Not that it mattered much by this point, since Wasp's panic had already soaked merchant and room alike.

Servos clamping onto the rim of the tub, Wasp glared daggers up at Swindle, hissing through his dental hardware. He slithered out like a lizard, his belly sliding against the rim as he crawled out onto the floor, body glistening with water.

Swindle knelt next to him and began to towel him off, roughly rubbing Wasp's frame to dry him. Once again, he was met with protest, but this time they were almost exclusively of the verbal kind, Wasp having finally tired himself out.

Once he was finished, Swindle surveyed his work, nodding to himself. He then folded the towel and walked out the door.

******

Wasp stood up and dusted at his arms even though they were perfectly dry. His limited mind was concocting the blackest insults it could conceive, even if none of them actually were all that nasty.

It was then that he noticed the drops of purple on the floor, mingling with the clear water there. He could still barely taste the tang of Swindle-bot's fluid on his tongue, and it made him realize that he might have really _hurt_ him.

Well, he thought, he had deserved it. After all, Swindle-bot had put him in water, and forced him to suffer through a _bath_, of all things. Still, maybe he should go and check up on the person who had given him food, shelter, and transportation, if only for those reasons.

Giving himself one last shake, paranoid of water drops sticking to his shimmering frame, he strode out of the room after Swindle-bot.


	4. Chapter 04: Secrets

Swindle & Wasp – The Difficulty in Finding What They Call "Beautiful"

_Chapter 4_

Cybertronian text raced across a small screen as Swindle entered notes about Wasp, his condition, and how much work was left before he would be ready for sale.

The merchant glanced over his shoulder, and, seeing that Wasp was not there, continued his writing.

Wasp was probably avoiding him, but that was really to be expected. After all, he'd given him a bath, and the striped creature had some kind of hydrophobia, as he had just found out. In the long run, though, he just couldn't figure out why.

Rather than try to figure it out, Swindle decided that, in the long run, it didn't really matter. Hydrophobia wasn't even something he'd need to mention to any potential buyers.

He'd entered it into his notes nonetheless, for personal reference, along with the creature's fear of having his panel touched. But mainly, the notes were about his progress with Wasp so far, how close he was to getting him ready for sale.

Well, now that he was cleaned up, there really wasn't anything else to fix about Wasp's appearance. Maybe do something about some of the dents in his armor, but that was about it. Wasp was fairly good-looking all on his own.

But, there was still a matter of his behavior. Rubbing his stinging hand, Swindle wrote that Wasp was still far too wild to sell for any purpose just yet, as he would refuse to obey whoever bought him and probably just end up injuring them. Not that he would care, but it'd leave a pretty damn dissatisfied customer, and that would certainly be his problem.

He would just have to work with Wasp until he could at least behave himself, preferably take commands, and, as a bit of an extra, refer to himself in the first person.

"Swindle-bot?"

Reflexively, Swindle switched off the screen and swiveled his chair to face the subject of his musings, honestly rather surprised that Wasp had wandered up here to see him after that turmoilous bath.

"Ah, hello there!" Swindle greeted, grinning with fabricated cheer. "What is it? Does Wasp need something?"

Slowly, cautiously, Wasp padded up to Swindle, rubbing his servos nervously. He stopped before the merchant and reached up, taking his larger, black servo into both his own. His helm tilted one way and the other as he regarded the still-leaking puncture marks his sharp dental hardware had caused.

"Swindle-bot servo alright?" Wasp asked. "Swindle-bot still leaking, he needs to do something about that or he might get sick."

Swindle found Wasp's concern even more surprising and confusing than the fact that the little possible-Autobot returning to the cockpit. Why would he care if he'd hurt him?

"I… Swindle-bot will be fine." Swindle answered, watching Wasp with intrigue.

"Swindle-bot not leave bite, it get infected with bugs, maybe even rust." Wasp insisted. "Or space barnacles smell fluid and come after Swindle-bot, attack him and ship."

Wasp pulled Swindle's servo up toward his faceplate—what was he trying to do? Swindle's entire body went stiff as he felt something warm touch the bite marks, lapping at them. Wasp was _licking_ the wound.

"Hah?" This was something to catch even Swindle was caught off-guard, and as a result the merchant, who was rarely surprised by anything, had difficulty trying to find his bearings. "Wh-what're you doing, Wasp?"

"Clean wound, it not get infected." Wasp answered, barely taking the time to stop and answer.

Swindle sat in silence, watching in bewilderment as Wasp cleaned the bite, clearly failing to see anything wrong with capturing and licking someone else's servo. It stung badly, but Swindle couldn't help but almost… _enjoy_ it.

When Wasp finished, he looked over the servo once more, checking his work, then thrust it away from himself as if it were something nasty and clambered up onto his favorite perch on the chair next to Swindle. He turned away from the merchant and began to watch the stars again.

Swindle glanced first at his servo, then up at Wasp, still in a state of confusion.

"Wasp?" He started. "Why did you do that?"

Wasp snorted. "Wasp not sorry he bite Swindle-bot." He answered irritably, without turning to look at the other. "Wasp just not want Swindle-bot get infected. Swindle-bot die, Wasp not get food, stay lost in space." He waved a servo nonchalantly at the door. "Now, Swindle-bot go get bandage, take care bite."

Swindle gave a chuckle. Feisty little thing. Well, there was certainly no fault to his logic. He knew what was what.

"Alright," The merchant said agreeably, pushing himself up out of his seat. "I'll go bandage it up."

He hadn't really paid it much notice before, but he supposed Wasp was right and he really should do something about it before something developed. He really doubted that something as bad as all that could develop, but if it concerned Wasp that much, he had no reason not to at least clean it up.

He strode past Wasp and out the room, made his way down the hall and stairs and into the storage room down below. He typed in the pass-code on the pad by the door and let himself in, picking up some bandages and a few treats for training Wasp once he was inside.

Swindle stood near the back of the room and tended to the bite, nothing fancy, just a bandage and some cleaning solution. Really, it wasn't all that bad. Certainly nothing to make a fuss over, and definitely nothing that would attract a swarm of space barnacles.

It was then that something occurred to him, and he stopped in place.

Wait… How had Wasp known all those things? About rust and Cybertronian infection; and space barnacles, and their attraction to the scent of spilt fluids? Clearly he was smarter than he acted.

Maybe the signals he was giving off really did mean _something_. Maybe he really had started life as an Autobot. But if that was the case, what could've changed him into the strange animal sitting upstairs playing connect-the-dots with the stars?

He shook his helm, dismissing the torrent of questions. Those weren't for him to be concerned with. Swindle finished tending to his servo and went back upstairs without another thought about it.

******

This time, when he returned to the control room, he found the exact same thing he'd found last time. Wasp was still sitting there, still tracing simple shapes, still finding interest in the most stupid things.

Swindle stretched before planting himself back in his seat.

"Wasp," He addressed, hitting the computer's off-switch with the toe of his ped. "Interested in learning some new things?"


	5. Chapter 05: Ettiquette

**Swindle & Wasp – The Difficulty in Finding What They Call "Beautiful" Chapter 5**

Wasp turned to look at Swindle and tilted his helm confusedly. "What Swindle-bot mean, 'learn something new'?"

Swindle shrugged nonchalantly, his characteristic smirk still decorating his faceplate as he leaned back in his seat. He gestured idly as he spoke.

"Well," He said, "Let's start with some basic etiquette, hmm?"

Wasp answered with a soft hiss, and Swindle rolled his optics irritably.

"Do you even know what 'etiquette' means?" He asked.

Wasp did not seem to have any idea; chances were, he just didn't like the sound of this unknown word. The small green creature scratched at his seat's armrest, and when Swindle got up to approach him, his digit tips dug into it and he hissed again. What, exactly, did he think etiquette _meant_?

"Etiquette." Swindle repeated. "Do you know what it means?"

Wasp looked off to the side, a pouty expression on his faceplate. "Wasp not know… Not like sound of learning 'ett-ick-ett." His attempt to pronounce the word ended with the creation of three new, totally unrelated words. Well, there was the answer to that question.

"Sheesh," Swindle sighed, irritation growing. "All it means is how you behave. You know, manners and whatnot."

Wasp tilted his head to the side once again. "How Wasp behave not Swindle-bot's business." He said rudely, and resumed watching stars drift by, interest captured by the slow approach of a small blue planet in the distance.

Swindle glared daggers at the back of the Autobot-creature's helm, both fist and dental plating clenched as he restrained his growing frustration at Wasp's insufferable behaviour. Well of course it was his business. A dissatisfied, even injured customer who'd found themselves on the feral Wasp's bad side would create huge trouble for him, and that was the last thing he needed, especially after the "S.U.V." incident.

"Wasp, just give this a shot, alright?" He said saccharinely, "It won't be so bad to learn some manners, make yourself a little more presentable, would it? And I have some nice treats to make it a little easier on you…"

"Wasp not want to learn Swindle-bot's 'ett-ick-ett'." Wasp said nonchalantly, not even bothering to look at the weapons merchant. He waved a servo dismissively. "He not going to fall for it, end up getting 'nother bath or something. Swindle-bot go put helm in latrine."

Swindle snarled, optics wide, digits twitching. Why, that insufferable little…!

He opened his vents and circulated air rapidly, gradually calming himself down. He was having a few financial difficulties after that fiasco down on Earth. Wasp was his ticket back into the black. He had to remember that. Had to keep that in mind. Had to keep himself from _throwing_ Wasp's _can _out the _windguard _into _outer_-freaking-_space_.

"Why, Wasp!" Swindle said, feigning hurt. "What would make you say something like _that_?"

"Why Swindle-bot start talking different?" Wasp asked, ignoring the question. "Wasp liked better when Swindle-bot talk like him."

Swindle groaned audibly. "Alright, fine. Why would _Wasp_ say something like that about _Swindle-bot_?"

"Because," Wasp answered simply. "Swindle-bot always up to something. Swindle-bot grab Wasp and force him in water. Wasp know Swindle-bot's game."

Swindle sighed. Well, this was an argument that there was clearly no way to win. He raised his arms in surrender, saying, "Alright, have it your way. But one way or the other, you're going to learn to behave yourself."

"No, Wasp isn't." Wasp grumbled. "Wasp going to act how he want."

"At the very least, you can't keep acting so violently." Swindle said.

"Why it matter to Swindle-bot?" Wasp asked, turning in his seat to face the merchant. "Wasp and Swindle-bot not going to see each other after reaching next planet, right?"

At this, Swindle paused, considering an answer. Well, that _would_ technically be true, if he weren't going to sell his little traveling companion, wouldn't it?

"Well, it'll be a while before we reach our destination," Swindle said smoothly, once he'd found his answer, "And until then, you'd better obey the rules of this ship. Got it?"

"Wasp think Swindle-bot still full of it." Wasp answered. "But Wasp agree listen unless Swindle-bot do something he not like."

"Like?"

"Like go against deal, or try touch him, or put him in water again." Wasp listed, counting points on his digits to illustrate. "Swindle-bot use 'etiquette' and Wasp use 'etiquette', sound fair?"

Swindle heaved another sigh. This was going to be even harder than he'd thought.

******

Out in space, there was no distinction between night and day.

Swindle tended to measure his day according to Cybertronian time, as recorded by several digital clocks onboard his ship. His own chronometer was off by at least a few joors at any given time, given that he had reset it several times and was usually too distracted with work to change it correctly according to the time either of Cybertron or of whatever planet he was currently on.

And according to said clocks, it was time for him to get a little rest for the trip ahead. It was late, and he'd been working all day, both with Wasp and on various business deals he'd been trying to seal.

Although Swindle was a fairly wealthy mech, recently he had hit on some hard times. He still had credits to burn, but they were very far away, on a planet he currently lacked access to. And until he could get back to his cash, he would have to work like a mad mech just to keep his helm above mercury, as the phrase went.

Between work and stress, it had all taken a serious toll on his recharging habits.

Presently, Swindle spread himself across his berth, offlining his optics and smiling to himself contentedly as he did. It was a simple pleasure, but even someone as adjusted to the finer things as Swindle had to savor it. After so many solar cycles catching only a few cycles of recharge here and there up in the cabin, just laying back and relaxing felt pretty damn good.

He'd just started to get good and settled in, when he felt a pair of small servos on his shoulder, nudging it.

"Wasp?" Swindle groaned, not bothering to switch on his optics.

"Swindle-bot, Wasp not like his quarters." Wasp complained.

Swindle reached up sleepily and brushed at the servos. "Why not? I set you up a perfectly good room. Got a nice berth and everything."

"Well, Wasp not like it." Wasp said. He put his servos back on the larger mech's shoulder and began to shake it again, digit-tips scratching lightly at the living metal.

"What do you want _me_ to do about it?" Swindle grumbled.

"Wasp want Swindle-bot's room, like it better."

Swindle grabbed his pillow and put it over his helm irritably. "Well, you can't have it." He answered, his sleepy voice muffled by the cushion.

Wasp snorted. As usual, he wasn't about to take no for an answer.


	6. Chapter 06: Roots

_Swindle & Wasp - The Difficulty in Finding What They Call "Beautiful"_

_Chapter 6_

_.  
_

"No." Swindle grumbled into his pillow. "Now go on back to your own room and get some recharge."

"But Wasp not like his room!" Wasp repeated irritably. "Or his berth either."

"What's wrong with it?" Swindle asked sleepily. "Like I just said, I fixed you up a perfectly good room. There's hardly any difference between the two, I swear to Primus. Now go away and let me sleep…"

Wasp climbed up next to the merchant, crouching by his shoulder and glowering down at him. "Hardly any difference, huh? Swindle-bot's berth seems a lot nicer if ask Wasp." He tapped the berth irritably.

"Primus, Wasp," Swindle said with a growl, his easygoing manner quickly dissolving in his tired and irritable state. "Leave me alone. It doesn't matter, and I want to _recharge_. It's been solar cycles since I got a decent rest! Now go to your own room or I swear I'll lock you in there."

Wasp narrowed his optics. "If there's no difference, trade with Wasp." He insisted.

"No, now go away." Swindle grumbled, and rolled over onto his side, facing away from the harassing striped mech.

Irritated, Wasp climbed up onto the berth and began to push on him, apparently trying to shove him off. Swindle groaned as he was turned onto his belly, helm still hidden under his pillow. But he was too large for Wasp to push any further.

"Alright, I confess." Swindle said, removing the pillow, "That berth is way too small for me. That's the _one difference_, alright?"

Wasp crouched there, unconvinced. Swindle groaned loudly and reluctantly sat up, pushed himself out of the bed, and gestured for the younger to follow him. He led him down the hall to Wasp's own quarters, and the two stepped inside.

"Alright, what's it gonna take for me to convince you to stay here in your own room?" Swindle asked.

"Wasp not know," Wasp answered, shrugging. "How about Swindle prove he can't fit in berth and that's the only reason he not switch?"

"Fine." Swindle sighed.

The merchant stepped over to the berth and carefully, awkwardly laid down on it. Though it could support his weight just fine, his legs extended well over the bottom, and his wide shoulders barely stayed in the berth's limits.

Wasp couldn't hold back a peal of laughter. The merchant just looked too funny, glaring at the ceiling as he tried half-heartedly to fit his body on a berth several sizes too small. It was the first time he'd laughed in stellar cycles, and as simple as it was, it felt good.

Swindle sat up, rubbing at his lower back as he repositioned himself on the berth. "There, you satisfied?"

Wasp recovered, approached, and sat down next to Swindle. He looked up at him with interest, and tilted his helm as he realized something.

"Swindle-bot?"

"Yeah…?" Swindle answered sleepily, looking down at his strange companion.

"Swindle-bot may be much bigger than Wasp, but he's still way smaller than most Decepticons." Wasp said. "They get bigger than five Autobots standing on each other's shoulders. But Swindle-bot only maybe as big as stupid green Mudflap-bot."

"I don't know who you're referring to," Swindle replied, "But I'm just…a little on the short side. How about you, why're _you_ so short?"

"Wasp used to be Autobot." Wasp said, shrugging. "Besides, he's not full-grown just yet. What Swindle-bot's excuse? Is he not a real Decepticon? Because that's the energy signature he's got."

Swindle frowned and sloped his shoulders slightly, starting to become even _more_ irritated than before. "I was just built that way! Why should it matter anyway?"

"Because Wasp wants to know," Wasp said. "Just tell Wasp and he'll leave Swindle-bot alone and not bother him about his room again."

******

Swindle sighed. Well, there was a proposition that'd certainly benefit him. As much as he hated talking about his roots, it looked like it'd be his only hope of getting any sleep now. And if it meant Wasp wouldn't bother him about it again, then that was a bonus.

Then again… He didn't have to go into detail…

"Alright, Wasp. The truth is, I'm only half Decepticon, and I cover up the dampened signature with an adjustable camo device I picked up in a deal. Alright? Satisfied? Can I go to bed now?"

"No." Wasp snorted. "Why is Swindle-bot only half Decepticon?"

"Why do you think? When an Autobot and a Decepticon decide to get busy, the result's only gonna be half of either, right?"

Wasp gave another snort in agitation. "Obviously, but how could that happen? Autobots and Decepticons enemies, and Swindle-bot doesn't look like he was around before Great War. Doesn't act mature enough."

Swindle sighed. There was really no way around this, was there?

"You're right, I wasn't. I wasn't sparked until near the end of the war. One of my progenitors was a traitor and that's how it's possible. Can I go to bed now?"

Wasp bristled at this, but before Swindle could ask what could have bothered him about that, the curious Autobot cut him off yet another question of his own.

"Was he really a traitor? Or did they only _think_ he was?"

This was getting more and more frustrating by the nanoklik. By now, Swindle was just about ready to resort to gagging Wasp, tying him to the berth, and leaving him there. But of course, that wouldn't help his situation or his attempts to gain Wasp's trust to some degree and to train him.

As much as he despised talking about his origins, he would just have to humor Wasp, at least as far as this went.

"I have no idea." Swindle answered through gritted dental plating. "I guess he was, if he was out knocking up the enemy, but personally, I never even met the mech. He was caught and executed, my other progenitor got me a protoform and then stellar cycles after the fact, he told me about him, and that's the end of the story."

With that, Swindle stood and went for the door. But Wasp apparently still had even more things he wanted to ask, and to Swindle's frustration, he followed after the merchant down the hall to try and get his questions in.

"So that's what happened, huh?"

"That's what happened."

"Where did Swindle-bot grow up, then?" Wasp asked.

"_That_ has nothing to do with _anything_!" Swindle snapped, finally fed up. "Now I'm going to bed, and you ought to do the same. Goodnight."

With that, he disappeared into his own room, the automatic door sliding shut behind him and locking with an electronic beep.

******

Wasp watched Swindle storm into his quarters in a huff, feeling himself a little disappointed that he hadn't been able to get more out of the merchant.

In all actuality, Wasp felt more amused and satisfied than anything, and snickered to himself as he padded back up the hall to his own room. Maybe he hadn't been told all he wanted to know, but he'd gotten at least a little information about his strange new travelling companion. And better still, the most cunning of mechs had no idea that he'd just been played like an electroviolin.

Pft, as if he'd be worried about something as stupid as whose room was better.


	7. Chapter 07: Premonition

_Swindle & Wasp – The Difficulty in Finding What They Call "Beautiful"  
__Chapter 7_

After that little history lesson, business went on as usual.

Swindle woke up feeling drowsy and cranky, as usual. He was not what humans call a "morning person", contrary to his usually cheerful and easy-going disposition. He didn't like having to part from his nice warm berth, and his body was often stiff from unwisely wearing weapons to bed.

He heaved himself out of his berth and sleepily made his way across the room and out the door into the hall. As usual, he was awake much earlier than Wasp. If nothing else he could be grateful for how quiet it was in the 'morning'.

Swindle went down to the storage area, running his routine self-diagnostic as he walked and even as he entered the door's access code. Lines of numbers and Cybertronian characters flashed across his vision in columns, rapidly following the progress of the scans. Finally, each system gave a green OK signal in turn. Everything was running smoothly today, of course.

He retrieved the energon he'd come down here for, locked the storage room door behind him, and headed back upstairs to the deck. Rather than put Wasp's food in his room, and risk waking him, he just brought it along with him and set the bowl on the striped nuisance's favorite chair. Wasp would find it on his own after he got up.

In the meantime, Swindle sat down at the controls, holding his own breakfast in one servo.

Sipping idly, he put his free servo on a small black screen on the control panel, letting it scan his personal energy signature. It gave a prompt, and he entered a numeric code with practiced speed. A cheerful beep sounded and the ship's computer hummed to life, multiple screens lit up in front of Swindle.

He leaned back in his seat, still sipping at his energon, as one of the monitors automatically displayed his schedule for the next few days. He started to read over it, but couldn't keep himself from cringing slightly at one of the list's later events.

Tomorrow—according to Cybertronian time, as recorded by one of his many clocks—he was due to meet with Lockdown, one of his more frequent customers, about some weapons the bounty hunter was interested in.

He frowned, and took another sip. Aside from his credits, Swindle never really liked Lockdown. There was just something about him that made him feel _uneasy_, as if those hungry, predatory optics were constantly sizing him up… for just what, he didn't care to considering.

He shuddered and waved a finger over his touch-pad, turning the list back.

Let's see, what else did he have to do… Oh yes, he was in the middle of arranging a meeting with a buyer interested in purchasing Wasp. It would take several days before he'd actually be able to meet with them and get the details sorted out, but until then he still had to arrange the actual meeting.

He touched the pad again, and a keypad slid out in front of him. It was all very state-of-the-art equipment; ran like silk and processed data in an instant. Of course it had been expensive, but it practically paid for itself with all the extra business he was able to get done. All together, this stuff could do it all.

Swindle got to work, typing up a message to the potential buyer. He was less than half-finished when he heard light footsteps approaching, followed by a sound that could only be of his young striped companion claiming breakfast and climbing up into his favorite chair.

"'Morning, Wasp." Swindle greeted absently.

"Good morning, Swindle-bot." Wasp answered, before starting to eat.

For a while, neither said anything. Wasp ate his breakfast without another word, and Swindle typed intently the entire time, providing the only sounds in the silence.

"Swindle-bot?" Wasp said at last.

"Mm?" Swindle hummed in response, not taking his optics off of the screens before him.

"Where we headed?" Wasp asked.

"Ah, at the moment?" Swindle answered absently, "I'm going to meet a client and then we'll probably be headed around the Milky Way galaxy."

Heh, it was nice that Wasp no longer required him to talk the same as he did. Despite the way he'd acted the 'day' before, it looked like it didn't bother him now that he had gotten comfortable with the merchant… Comfortable enough even to boss him around, make ridiculous demands, expect food from him… Ugh.

"Milky Way?" Wasp echoed. "Never heard of it."

"Out of the way little place," Swindle said, taking the time to wave his servo, gesturing as he tended to do. "It's only got eight planets, and seven of them are completely uninhabited. Not many Cybertronians out that way, but there are a few preferred customers laying low on a planet called 'Earth'."

"Ah."

Wasp didn't say anything after that, until he was prompted by the merchant.

"Ah, Wasp? I need you to stay out of the way tomorrow, alright?"

Behind him, Wasp frowned. "Why's that, Swindle-bot?"

"Well, you see, tomorrow, I'm going to be meeting with this client. Nasty fellow, you understand, it'd be best for the both of us if you just hid out in your room until he leaves. And then, I'll give you some extra energon as a reward for helping me out, how does that sound?"

"Wasp guess." Wasp answered, shrugging. "He's got nothing better to do."

Well, that was the most cooperative he'd been since he'd picked him up. Really, he hoped he kept up this agreeableness.

"But Swindle-bot better have some good energon for Wasp when he gets done," Wasp added. "and a book or something else for him to do. Swindle-bot got any idea how damn boring it is around this ship?"

Swindle stopped and turned around to look at the ex-Autobot. Well, he certainly hadn't lost his attitude at all! No wonder he was being cooperative, he just wanted something in return, as usual. Still, he had gotten a lot better since their first meeting. At least the little brat was improving. That would make things better for everyone involved, especially Swindle.

"So, a book, huh? I'll see what I can do. Shouldn't be too hard, really…"

Swindle turned back to his work. He finished the message, sent it, and looked once more at his schedule. Damn… The last thing he wanted to deal with was Lockdown.

His fuel tank churned, and he pushed away his energon, unable to finish the rest. In an act that surprised himself as much as Wasp, he turned and handed it over to the striped nuisance, letting him finish off the rest. He couldn't help it; there was just no way he could stomach it, for some reason.

He felt sick all of a sudden, with the kind of horrible feeling that could only precede trouble. For some reason, for the first time, he truly dreaded meeting with Lockdown. Normally, the two didn't get along badly, and as frightening as the bounty hunter was, he was a good customer with deep pockets, so to speak.

But this time… This time felt different.

He couldn't put his digit on why, but Swindle was not looking forward to tomorrow.


	8. Chapter 08: Destruction

_A/N: This time, you should be warned that the 'M' rating is not just for show. So now implemented is a rape + sticky warning. Skip this chapter if you're not into that, and you should be pretty well caught up at the beginning of chapter 9, which goes back to being fairly tame.  
Thank you to Loco and CherryAmaryllis for their wonderful help._

.

* * *

_Swindle & Wasp – The Difficulty in Finding What They Call "Beautiful"_

_Chapter 8_

_.  
_

Lockdown's ship materialized very suddenly in front of Swindle's as the cloaking device was deactivated. Swindle wasn't surprised—the bounty hunter always made a damn spectacle of his appearances, just as he was always late. The merchant had honestly expected this of him.

Standing beside the merchant in the cockpit, Wasp growled low. "Wasp doesn't like this already."

"Shh," Swindle whispered calmly, putting his servo on the other's shoulder. "He's just a customer, he'll be gone in a few."

"But Wasp got bad feeling, he doesn't like the look of that ship." Wasp grumbled.

"I've dealt with him before and it's really not a big deal," Swindle said reassuringly, his tone as saccharine as ever. "Now, make yourself scarce like we agreed and I'll come get you in, oh, probably around half a megacycle."

"Fine." Wasp said, shrugging. He turned and walked off, leaving Swindle alone in the cockpit.

The merchant steeled himself, a certain superstitious side deep inside of him wary of the uneasy feelings he and Wasp had gotten, both yesterday and today. No, that was ridiculous. Feelings like that were meaningless, just a little unwarranted nervousness. Things were gonna be fine, just like any other time, or any other customer.

With that, he contacted the looming black ship, keeping up his usual cheerful mannerisms as he greeted the intimidating bounty hunter.

"Lockdown, old pal! It's been stellar cycles!" Swindle greeted. "How've you been?"

Lockdown eyed him via the monitor. "Oh, just open the door, Swindle." He said rudely, giving a familiar smirk.

Swindle laughed. "Ah, personable as ever, I see." He said. "Alright, alright, let me get that for ya."

He entered a few commands on the control panel. Outside, the ship's main door slowly opened and a bridge extended, reaching out to cover the door of Lockdown's ship. This way, the bounty hunter could walk over without fear of getting sucked out into space.

As both he and Lockdown waited for it to open, Swindle made his way to the door to meet his guest, all uneasy feelings forgotten in favor of the promise of making deals and money.

With all his spark, he was going to regret having ignored them.

*****

"…And this one here's a real beauty, packs a real punch and unbelievably lightweight." Swindle said in his proud, cheerful salesman's voice, displaying yet another sleek plasma gun.

"Hmm, very nice." Lockdown responded. "I like it, how much is it?"

"Oh it's only 50,000 credits." Swindle replied smoothly. "But for you, how's 35,000 sound? It's got rapidfire capabilities, too, if just deactivate the main limiter."

"Good." Lockdown said. "Put me down for one of those."

Swindle's grin only grew, and he put the weapon aside on his personal worktable. "You got it. I'll put it over here until you're ready to check out. In the meantime, perhaps I could interest you in this number…"

The arms dealer continued to go through his assortment, giving enticing pitches for each of his unique, interesting weapons. Many he kept in his personal storage and pulled out through the drawer on his chassis, while a few were still sitting out on smooth steel tables where he had recently sorted and cleaned them.

Lockdown listened intently, but his mind was clearly not entirely on the weapons. As they sometimes tended to do, his predatory optics strayed. Swindle's voice slowed to a stop as he felt the stares, focused on his body.

"Erm, Lockdown?" Swindle asked. "Is there something I can do for you? These not quite what you had in mind today?"

A toothy grin crossed Lockdown's faceplate, and Swindle shrank back.

"Well, Swindle, I gotta say; your selection never fails to impress." He said, his voice a low, throaty growl. "But y'know, I was actually looking for something a little different this time."

"Huh?" Swindle paused, looking confusedly at him. He opened the drawer-shaped portal on his chassis and put away the gun before pulling out several other weapons, displaying them one at a time and delivering pitches for each of them.

"No, no, nothing like that." Lockdown growled, still wearing the same dark grin. "I mean, you know, more like…" His hook touched Swindle's thigh, running its length to his hip. "_You_."

"Now wait just a cycle!" Swindle exclaimed, putting his servos defensively in front of himself as he stepped backward away from Lockdown. "Exactly what do you think I deal in here?" He gave a nervous chuckle as he often tended to do. "I'm an honest, legitimate weapons merchant, not a _prostitute!_"

Lockdown sneered. "Oh, just save it for the Elite Guard."

All at once, he was shoving Swindle forcefully to the ground. The merchant gasped, but didn't have even a second before the bounty hunter was on him, pinning him to the floor, the larger mech's weight bearing down on him hard.

"H-hey, wait!" Swindle cried. "Wait, you really don't want to do this with me! Look, I know this mech back on Cybertron, they say he's real easy, got all the right moves and one of the _tightest _ports—"

"Maybe you didn't hear me," Lockdown cut him off with a cold hiss, scratching the side of his face with his hook. "I've decided I want _you_. And I _always_ hit my mark, Swindle."

"No, no, really!" Swindle insisted, on the verge of begging. "Then how about this hot femme I know, she can do some amazing things with her mouth, lem'me tell ya, oh I got all kinds of connections Lockdown, just say the word and I'll—"

"Shut up!" Lockdown snapped, plunging his hook into Swindle's hip.

The merchant gave a horrible cry of pain, writhing beneath Lockdown as he felt the cold metal penetrate his plating. Lockdown gave a sadistic grin at the sound, twisting the hook in Swindle's hip before drawing it back out, covered in purple fluids.

"This is going to be _fun_." Lockdown growled.

"Oh please, please don't do this," Swindle pleaded quickly, "I thought things were going so well between us, too, and you're one of my best customers! Oh, come on, Lockdown! Buddy! Pal!"

"Didn't I tell you to shut up, motormouth?" Lockdown snapped.

His hook flashed, cutting a vertical line across Swindle's maxillae, which opened responsively as the merchant gave another cry of pain. Lockdown leapt at the opportunity, forcing his hook inside. Swindle kept his mouth open, staring down at it with fear, horrified at the prospect of losing one of his most valuable attributes; his voice.

"You gonna quit talking?" Lockdown hissed threateningly.

Swindle answered with a quick nod, almost uncharacteristically submissively.

"Good boy," Lockdown said.

Swindle watched him in terror, already-large purple optics wide and darting around anxiously. The merchant was normally so cool and smooth in the face of trouble, but this was more even than he could take.

"Good."

Lockdown wasted no time in completely disarming Swindle, stripping him of his weapons and leaving them scattered on the floor. He loomed over the merchant, a vicious, predatory grin on his hideous alabaster face.

His hook went searching for Swindle's most sensitive places, digging into most of his joints and wherever Lockdown found a seam. He left deep scratches all across his neck, his chassis, his legs, and hips, leaving Swindle covered in his own glistening fluids.

Finally, he dug his hook into Swindle's codpiece and tore it open, breaking the tan plating almost in half. He snapped it apart and tossed it aside carelessly, exposing Swindle's interface panel.

"No…" Swindle whimpered. "Please, don't…"

"Didn't I tell you to can it, motormouth?" Lockdown hissed. "Unless, you want me to dig into that throat of yours and remove your voice synthesizer?"

Swindle fell silent.

Lockdown clicked open the panel, before reaching down to do the same to his own. As he freed his interface cable, Swindle screeched and scrambled backward in a final, desperate attempt to escape. The merchant flipped himself over onto his servos and knees, pushed himself up onto his peds, and make a mad dash for the stairs.

But Lockdown was far too quick for him, tackling him and pinning him once more. But this time, Swindle in an even worse position, lying prone and facedown on his knees, his aft raised.

Lockdown put his hand on Swindle's helm, forcing him in place.

"Bad idea, Swindle." He spat.

Swindle offlined his optics and swallowed hard. The cable brushed the lip of his port, and he clenched his fists, tears finally forming at the corners of his optics even in spite of himself. No, no, this wasn't happening…

All at once, Lockdown thrust inside. Swindle let loose a piercing scream as his luminescent optics snapped on. He couldn't even fight back anymore; Lockdown's piercing hook was pressed to his belly, threatening to spill his guts onto the floor if he resisted.

All Swindle could feel was the burning pain, racking his body. His agony only grew with each assault, overwhelming him, causing him to shake uncontrollably. He couldn't stop screaming, even between attacks.

"Mm… _Tight_…" Lockdown commented. "You haven't done this much, have you, Swindle? Nah, you're always so wrapped up in your damn money. I'd be surprised if you got laid more than maybe twice in your entire _function_."

It wasn't too much longer before the bounty hunter finished, but to Swindle it seemed like an eternity. Lockdown grunted as he tensed, pushing his cable inside one last time, up to the hilt. Swindle felt it stretching the rubber walls of his valve, felt hot, disgusting conductive fluid gush deep into him, causing him to retch.

Lockdown stayed inside several moments longer, cable twitching sickeningly, before pulling out with a low chuckle.

"That really was _fun_." He laughed, his tone mocking. "We should do it again sometime."

He pulled his hook out from under Swindle's belly, letting it scratch lightly along it as he did. His hand remained on the smaller mech's helm, keeping him pinned into place.

The hook scratched the exposed tip of Swindle's cable before settling at the already damaged lip of his port.

"Or, y'know, maybe not."

The hook plunged into Swindle's port, causing him to scream even more loudly than before. Swindle writhed and flailed beneath the bounty hunter, desperately seeking escape from his horrible tormentor. Lockdown turned it inside, then drew it back out. The arms dealer felt darkness beginning to overcome his vision as he gave one last scream.

At last, Lockdown released Swindle's helm and stood up, kicking the merchant harshly and knocking him over onto his side, before going for the stairs. He stopped, as if remembering something, and Swindle heard him walk back across the room toward and then past him.

There was a sound that could only be the bounty hunter gathering up the two or three weapons he'd been interested in earlier. He stepped up to Swindle again, laughing dryly, and nonchalantly tossed a fistful of credits at him.

"Keep the change." Lockdown said mockingly, before going once more for the stairs.

Finally, it was over. With the sound of the door closing, the ordeal had ended, leaving a broken and leaking Swindle lying helpless on the ground, shivering, in a growing pool of violet fluids.

He shuttered off his optics. He felt weak, dizzy, and cold, and his colors were beginning to pale. Was this it? Was he going to die as a filthy, broken _sex toy_?

"…Swindle-bot?"


	9. Chapter 09: Aftermath

_Swindle & Wasp – The Difficulty in Finding What They Call "Beautiful"_

_Chapter 9_

_._

Wasp couldn't help feeling nervous as he opened the door.

He'd heard the screams—just barely, but they were unmistakably Swindle's. And on the way here to investigate, he'd met that ugly skull-bot in the hall and had been shoved out of the way, the nonchalant push almost knocking him off his feet.

But what made him nervous the most was that he couldn't hear Swindle anymore. Downstairs, it was completely silent.

"…Swindle-bot?" He called softly.

It was dark, too, and Wasp couldn't deal well with the dark at all. It wasn't that he was afraid of it, but his vision wasn't the best and it was nearly impossible for him to see what awaited him at the base of the stairs.

For all he knew, Swindle was offline. It would mean the end for them both, with Wasp unable to unlock either the ship's controls or the food storage.

He fumbled for a light switch, his green fingers scraping the wall until he finally found it. He pressed it quickly and hurried down the stairs.

The sight that he came to was far from a pretty one, and even Wasp recoiled at the gruesome state Swindle had been left in. Steeling himself, he approached his traveling companion. Upon coming closer, he could see that Swindle's codpiece was completely gone, and his optics strayed to his panel…

Wasp froze. It was a sight he recognized instantly. Swindle's port was ruined, and mingling liquid purple and oily clear fluids dribbled from it. Something clicked in the ex-Autobot's damaged processor, and he quietly came up beside Swindle, kneeling next to him.

"Swindle-bot… Swindle-bot online?" He asked softly.

"W-Wahs…" Swindle groaned feebly.

His optics came back on, but they were dim. It didn't seem that he was able to focus on Wasp's faceplate or even his shape.

"Y-you thouldn't be here…" Swindle croaked. "Go… go ahn p-pack to your r-ruhm…"

"What's Swindle-bot talking about?" Wasp exclaimed. "He has bigger things to worry about now! Swindle-bot is probably going _offline_!"

Swindle's already dim optics darkened completely as they shuttered off. He didn't even have the energy to keep them running, right now.

"Wahs… Can't thay awake…" Swindle whispered. "I'm cold."

"Swindle-bot will be fine," Wasp said. He meant it to be reassuring, but as always, he just sounded irritated. "Just rest. Wasp will take care of him."

Swindle gave no response. He had slipped into stasis, possibly even stasis lock.

Wasp leaned over him and carefully rolled him onto his back. It took considerable effort, as although Swindle was far smaller than most other Decepticons, he was still well over twice Wasp's own size; not so much in height but easily in mass.

Once the merchant was lying on his back, Wasp set to work. He forced open his chest compartment and began to rummage around for medical supplies he knew Swindle would have to have around in here somewhere.

This would take a lot more than just licking his hand and telling him to find himself a bandage.

*****

"_Mm_…" A quiet groan.

"Don't try to talk. Swindle-bot just hurt himself even worse."

Swindle's optics flickered on, to be greeted by the sight of an all-too-familiar green face scowling down at him. Startled, the merchant gave a shout and pulled away, his body protesting angrily as he did. He flinched, gritting his dental plating.

"Don't move either."

Wasp moved down next to his torso, checking the wounds there. Swindle's groggy mind began to process what was going on, and he could only wonder why Wasp would be taking care of him.

"Wasp knows how it goes." Wasp said, still checking over Swindle's body. "Skull-bot decide he wanted a little more than weapons; Swindle-bot get it up the tailpipe."

Swindle groaned low, and Wasp gave him a sharp look, reminding him not to speak. The merchant turned his helm to the side, casting his gaze off away from his small striped companion.

"Swindle-bot should be grateful he's online at all." Wasp continued. "He nearly stopped functioning, been in stasis for a long time… nearly a whole solar cycle and a half one, Wasp thinks."

Had he really been out for so long? It would make sense, given what he'd been through, but even so…

"Swindle-bot lost too much fluid and got puncture wounds. Wasp gave him full first aid but he's no doctor. Swindle-bot needs medical attention or the things Wasp say before happen. Like space barnacles and infection."

He hadn't said anything about it before, but with nothing better to do, Swindle decided to correct Wasp's slight misconception.

"Space barnacles don't work that way," Swindle grumbled, and winced slightly. Wasp gave him another sharp look. "Oh, what," Swindle said irritably, in spite of the pain. "It hurts, but I'm not gonna make it worse just by talking."

"Fine." Wasp answered rudely. "Continue. Then Swindle-bot shut up."

"Space barnacles can't smell fluids through the ship." Swindle said, looking idly at Wasp. "They won't attack a ship unless it's rusty, or somebody gets thrown out into space. If that happens, they'll chase after it. You're half-right about them, though; they're attracted to the scent of body fluids."

"Oh." Wasp said, still working. He shrugged. "Wasp never really paid so much attention to topic of space barnacles in school. Maybe he should have."

Air slowly released from Swindle's vents as he looked up at the ceiling. He felt stiff and the pain was still throbbing. It occurred to him to get something for the pain, and he reached for his chestplate, but even as he moved Wasp grabbed his servo and forced it back down onto the ground.

"What Swindle-bot want? Wasp will get it."

Swindle couldn't help himself giving a devilish half-smile. "Finally starting to like me?"

"No, Wasp just doesn't want Swindle-bot to die." Wasp answered irritably. "Remember what he say the last time stupid Swindle-bot got himself hurt?"

Well, technically Wasp had been the one to hurt him, but the merchant didn't care enough to make an issue of it right now.

"Yeah, yeah," Swindle said coolly. "I need something for the pain. There's some in there, with the other medical supplies…which you seem to have found without much trouble."

Wasp slid open Swindle's compartment and reached inside, rifling around for the medical supplies. Ah, there they were. He came back up holding a small bottle, which he set aside as he pushed the door shut again.

"Wrong bottle." Swindle pointed out.

"What?"

"That's the wrong one. You want the one with the blue label."

"Oh." Wasp gave the green-labeled bottle a dirty look as if it was the medicine's fault for being the wrong kind. Then he reopened the portal and went rummaging for a bottle with a blue label. This time, he brought up the right bottle, and administered it to Swindle.

"Whew, feels better already," Swindle said, as cheerfully as ever.

Wasp looked at him oddly, tilting his helm to one side. "Swindle-bot sure seems chipper for somebody who just got _raped_."

Swindle shrugged, and regretted it. Shit, it was a little too soon to try moving. He would have to wait a little longer for the Cybertronian medicine to take its full effect. He relaxed his shoulders carefully and looked up into large, confused purple optics.

"It's not the worst thing that could happen." Swindle answered. "So he got a little kinky sex outta me. I'm more angry about the damage he did to me. Shit, it hurts like the Pit! And think about the money it's going to cost to repair all the damage!"

Wasp bristled. "It _is_ the worst thing that could happen."

Swindle did not break the gaze as he watched Wasp. "Is that what happened to you, Wasp?"

Wasp glared down at him. "Swindle-bot needs to shut up so he can get better." He said, changing the subject. "Wasp will bring him a tarp and cushion."

With that, he turned and padded off quickly, leaving Swindle to lie on the ground with his thoughts, staring in silence up at the ceiling as he mused. Truth be told, the experience had been one of the most painful and terrifying of Swindle's function, and he had been through a lot over the vorns. He'd lived on the streets, been beaten up by Blitzwing, chased by the Elite Guard, captured and escaped, knocked on Death's door and sold him a radio.

His function so far had been far from dull, even now. It wasn't the first time someone had nearly ended it, but it was the first time anything like this had happened to the salesbot.

Swindle's thoughts were a tangle. On the one hand, he had meant what he'd said about not caring about the forced interface. But on the other hand, it was so much more than that. Lockdown had caught him off-guard, overpowered him, taken advantage of him before the merchant had been able to pull his weapons.

It made Swindle angry, it made him feel used, and strangely, it even made him feel a little _vulnerable_. Was he really so damn weak? No, he'd simply let his guard down. He just needed to brush up, needed to install a weapon he could pull quickly even after being pinned down that way.

And on top of it all, he had nearly lost his voice. Sure, if Lockdown had torn it out, he could have put in a new vocal synthesizer, but it wouldn't have been _his_ voice. _His_ silky, quick-talking, absolutely unique voice. He would have hated sounding like anything else. And even though, under different circumstances, he could've had an identical custom replacement made, without the original synthesizer -- which he _knew_ Lockdown would've destroyed in that lustful fit of his -- it would've been impossible.

He said a few words to the empty room, listening to the sound of his own one-of-a-kind voice. His emotions regarding the ordeal were mixed, and fighting for prevalence –- but all of them were decidedly very negative.

But perhaps for now, until he could get it all sorted out, it would just be best to do as Wasp said and rest. He settled back and offlined his optics as he waited for his striped companion to return.


	10. Chapter 10: Companions

_Swindle & Wasp – The Difficulty in Finding What They Call "Beautiful"  
Chapter 10_

_.  
_

When Swindle woke up, it was, for the second time, to that scowling green face. His reaction was the same as the first time: giving a yelp and flinching, only to have his stiff body repay him with a fresh bolt of pain. He groaned.

"Swindle-bot." The aforementioned green face addressed him.

"Mm… Yes?" Swindle answered sleepily.

"Swindle-bot needs to tell Wasp how to access the storage area." Wasp said. "Otherwise, he won't be able to get to the energon, and both are going to starve."

Swindle eyed him, considering his options. Well, on the one hand, Wasp was completely right. And if the little nuisance had made this much of an effort to keep him from offlining from fluid loss, electronic infections, and mechanical failure (not to mention those phantom barnacles of his) then chances were he wasn't going to withhold the energon once he got it.

But then again, on the other hand, he really didn't like the idea of Wasp in his ship's storage area. After all, he didn't want him spilling, ruining, or eating up the valuable energon and oil he stored there. It was times like these that he wished he could just keep the stuff in his private alternate-dimensional storage, but if he did that, the energon would become dangerously unstable, and eventually would probably blow up either Swindle or all of his merchandise.

Most people would consider that a bad thing if it happened to them, Swindle included. However, most people would also consider that a good thing if it happened to Swindle, Swindle excluded.

*****

Wasp watched Swindle quietly as he waited for the merchant to answer. Ah, of course. He was so greedy that he had to sit and think about whether he'd rather starve or risk losing a little money through property damage.

The ex-Autobot sighed. Nothing could be more quintessentially _'Swindle-bot'_.

Seeing as he probably wasn't going to be getting an answer anytime soon, Wasp decided to change the subject, at least for now. Swindle would change his mind when he started to get hungry; he cared too much about his own welfare not to. Even the prospect of money wasn't worth the greedy merchant's life… At least, Wasp hoped that was the case.

"So Swindle-bot," Wasp started, "Got nothing better to do. Tell Wasp more about where Swindle-bot comes from."

He groaned inwardly. How he hated the sound of his own voice!

Swindle frowned as if the very question offended him. "Really Wasp, is now the time?"

"Well, Swindle-bot got nothing better to do." Wasp repeated. "Besides, if he can tell Wasp all about space barnacles down here, then why can't he talk about where he came from?"

Swindle knew he had a point, and Wasp could see it in the irritated look he took on; optics not meeting his own, the edge of his mouth pouted slightly. It was a rarely-seen expression, and usually could be seen only when a customer noticed that his merchandise wasn't quite worth asking price.

"Well, because it's really not a story for telling when the mood's already so low!" Swindle said, pitching it in that smooth, cheerful salesman voice. "Why don't we talk about something, you know, a little more light-hearted?"

"Don't give Wasp that." Wasp replied. "Wasp wants to know the rest of the story. Where did Swindle-bot grow up? How did his other progenitor get by? And does it got anything to do with Swindle-bot being a salesbot?"

Swindle blew air through his vents, but kept up his pitching voice. "What's it matter? The past's all in the past, so let's keep it that way!"

"Because Wasp is curious. He's been travelling with Swindle-bot for a while now and wants to know more about him."

"Well why can't you ask something simpler?" Swindle complained, still speaking in the same sweet tones. "Like what my favorite color is, or what weapons I prefer? You know, simple things!"

"Swindle-bot's favorite color is purple, duh." Wasp countered, feeling a bit smug. "And Wasp doesn't care much about weapons these solar cycles."

"Now, you're just assuming that I'm vain enough to like purple because of my own coloring. My favorite color is green." The merchant stated rather matter-of-factly.

Wasp eyed him. "Swindle-bot just made that up to prove Wasp wrong."

"And how do you know that?"

"Because Swindle-bot just said the color of the first thing his optic fell on. Which is Wasp's plating."

"You're sharp, you know that?"

"Yeah, and Swindle-bot's favorite color is purple."

Swindle had nothing to say to that.

In spite of this small digression, Wasp had not forgotten where he was trying to go with this. Swindle could try all he wanted to steer the conversation away, but one way or the other, the ex-Autobot was going to get his answers.

Whether it was plain curiosity or a desire to get to know his temporary traveling partner just a little better, now that Wasp had made his mind up on the matter, there was simply no changing it.

"So, Swindle-bot tell Wasp where he came from now."

Swindle's expression fell. He'd probably thought his evasion technique had worked this time. _Better luck next time_, Wasp thought smugly.

Swindle blew air quietly out his vents again, and his salesman voice faded away to be replaced by his normal speech. It wasn't too different, but it lacked most of the gloss and catch-phrase terminology, and Wasp could appreciate that.

"You're really bent on getting me to tell you, aren't you, Wasp?" Swindle sighed.

Wasp nodded.

"Well fine then." Swindle took on a dark grin, and Wasp braced himself for whatever he'd say next. "But you can't expect to get something for nothing, now can you? Why don't you tell me a little about yourself, Wasp? I've got more than a few questions myself, you little nuisance."

Wasp glared at the merchant. "Wasp saved Swindle-bot's stupid function, isn't that good enough?"

"Wasp only did it to preserve his own function." Swindle countered mockingly.

It took a good deal of self-restraint not to smack the salesman, but that didn't change the fact that he had a point. Wasp didn't really have much room to argue, so he was stuck with simply going along with it. What other options did he have?

"Fine. Wasp agrees. But he goes first too."

"Fair enough," Swindle said. "Shoot."

*****

Swindle tried to remind himself that this was all for money.

Soon his little travelling companion would be taken off his hands by some fat, lonely rich mech with nothing better to do, to use however he saw fit. And when that happened, Swindle would never see the striped nuisance again, and it would never even matter what he told him because his new owner probably wouldn't ever listen to a thing Wasp said.

Somehow, the scenario was seeming less and less appealing. Perhaps Swindle thought, he was just starting to feel that "it's cute, let's keep it" tug that had nudged at him after he'd first taken in the little bugger and found him sleeping. How long ago had that been now…?

Ah, he was getting off-track. The issue at hand here was having to talk about his past, and that was something he simply couldn't stand having to do. There was little, in fact, that he hated more. There were memories there that he would rather not rouse.

But it should be worth it, in the long run. He'd learn a little more about Wasp, and use that information to help him refine and tame the creature, and that would pay off big time. Swindle steeled himself for the impending questions and the difficult conversation that would inevitably follow.

"So first, where was Swindle-bot sparked?"

Of course. Blackest question he could've gone with and Wasp decided to go right on down that road. Well, as long as he tread lightly, maybe he wouldn't be forced to go into the gory details.

"It was a quaint little place," Swindle answered slowly, sarcasm tainting his melodic voice, "called Polyhex."

"_Polyhex?_" Wasp echoed incredulously. "The Decepticon settlement? Wasp may not have paid much attention in history, but he thought it didn't exist anymore."

"Oh, I'd hardly call it a settlement." Swindle answered. "But nobody said I spent my whole life there, either."

"So then, where _did _you stay?" Wasp asked, awe in his voice.

"Ah-ah," Swindle chided. He wagged his finger slightly. "Don't you remember our little deal? Now _I_ get to ask _you_ a question."

"Wasp's listening."

"What exactly were you in prison for?"

Wasp bristled. A look of absolute fury crossed his faceplate before slowly simmering to a snarl to the tune of audible, heavy breaths through his vents. Apparently, this was a fairly touchy subject with his companion. But as Swindle was about to find out, he had more than a little to say on the matter.

"Wasp was in prison for something he didn't do. It was all Bumble-bot's fault; if it weren't for him, Wasp would've had a normal life, would've been in the Elite Guard, made Prime by now… But no! Wasp was framed as a traitor, and sentenced to spend entire function in prison! Wasp never did anything to deserve that, and now look at him! That's why Wasp needs to find Bumble-bot, and he _will_…"

Wasp trailed off, looking embarrassed.

"Nevermind." He said. "It's just a hard thing for Wasp to talk about."

"Apparently." Swindle responded, blinking. Whatever he had been expecting, it certainly wasn't an outburst like that.

"Maybe this was bad idea." Wasp said, his voice almost uncharacteristically quiet.

"Ah, just forget about it. It's no big deal, right?" Swindle said brightly, flashing Wasp a winning smile.

Wasp frowned down at him before turning away.

"Swindle-bot still needs medical attention, know it? How's Wasp gonna get him there?"

"I can change the course from down here." Swindle answered. "Got this very convenient remote control, see, as long as I can authorize the commands, the navigational equipment will do whatever I want."

"Makes sense." Wasp said. "Let Wasp guess; ship's already headed there?"

"You'd be correct."

Wasp snorted and busied himself checking over Swindle's wounds and changing the dressing on some of them. Lockdown had gotten fairly carried away, and the merchant had cuts and scratches all over his body.

For several cycles, silence reigned over the room.

"So, Wasp." Swindle said at last, staring idly up at the ceiling.

"Yes, Swindle-bot?" Wasp answered, not glancing up from his work.

"Let me give you the access codes for the storage room."

Wasp looked up then. Their optics met, purple reflecting in purple, and gazes lingered. But just as suddenly as the moment began, it ended, Wasp turning away to look back down at his work.

"Wasp knew Swindle-bot would give in, once he got hungry." He said rudely.

"It's just that I realized a fairly simple truth." Swindle stated.

"Oh? And what's that?"

"You have no idea how long it's going to be before we reach the next planet," Swindle said. "For all you know, it could be lunar cycles. Right?"

"Wasp follows. But if it was lunar cycles, Swindle-bot would be long since offline by then."

Swindle gave him a look, but chose to ignore the comment. "Well, all the same, you aren't going to eat up our supplies before we reach it; you're too smart for that. Or well, your instincts wouldn't let you. Something like that."

Wasp looked up at him again, this time wearing a rather self-satisfied smirk.

"Swindle-bot just called Wasp 'smart'." He said, giving a snort of amusement. Something along the lines of a laugh protoform that didn't quite make it to adulthood.

"Enjoy it," Swindle retorted, putting on an exaggerated mock pout, "because it ain't happening again."

This time, the laugh grew up and then some.


	11. Chapter 11: Feelings

_Swindle & Wasp – The Difficulty in Finding What They Call "Beautiful"  
__Chapter 11_

_._

Wasp left a few cycles later to retrieve the energon, leaving Swindle once again alone with his thoughts. Thoughts which were, at the moment, regarding nothing so deep as his own or Wasp's background, or the difficult feelings of having been raped, but of how much pain he was in and, consequently, how much he would _really _like to kill Lockdown for causing it.

He was still very stiff, and even after another dose of Nebulon medicine — from the blue-labeled bottle, of course — the pain still dogged him in the form of a dull, throbbing ache. His entire body felt sore, the scars from Lockdown's hook present across his plating, but nothing felt worse than his torn and battered port.

Like any creature in pain, the merchant felt the incessant urge to rub or scratch at his wounds and the itchy, chaffing bandages Wasp had applied. Lifting his arm caused a dull pain to resonate in his body, and touching the wounds hurt even more, so in the long run making the effort just wasn't worth it. Somehow, he'd have to overcome that overwhelming natural urge to just _scratch_.

_Just what the hell was he thinking, pulling a stunt like that?_ Swindle thought bitterly, trying to redirect his attention away from his need to mess with his hurts. _Oh man, if I ever get my hands on that double-crossing bastard, I swear to Primus and God and Money and all those other deities I'm gonna…_

He paused.

Wait. Just why _had_ Lockdown gone and done that? Well, certainly he was a sadistic, bloodthirsty fellow whose idea of a good time typically involved alcohol, bondage, disembowelment, or some combination of the three, and, knowing Lockdown, it was entirely possible that he'd just done it on a whim. After all, he wasn't too sharp when it came to business, considering that he valued his stupid upgrade 'trophies' more than things like money and his own business partners (something Swindle could never understand, personally). It probably wouldn't matter to him if Swindle stopped doing business with him altogether, seeing as he could just nab upgrades from his victims.

But then again, he had never really thought the bounty hunter to be quite so spontaneous. Really, he would've thought that if Lockdown had intended to rape him, he would've made some preparations first, brought him onto his ship and chained him up or something. On the other hand, maybe he'd been thinking about this for a while and figured it would be better raw.

Swindle sighed. Okay, now he was just over-thinking things. That was a little on the side of ridiculous.

Besides, he could wonder all day and all night and never be able to understand the baffling workings of the black mech's processor. Lockdown would act suave and calm one moment and, well, do things like that the next.

Swindle lifted his helm, hearing the sound of quiet footsteps heading down the stairs towards him.

"Ah, there you are." Swindle greeted, grinning. "I was beginning to get worried."

"Pfft." Wasp snorted. "Swindle-bot cut the crap, Wasp was only gone couple of cycles."

He sat down on the floor next to Swindle and handed him his energon. Then, the striped ex-Autobot set himself to greedily downing a cube of his own, apparently trying to see if he could consume all of it in fifteen kliks or less.

"You know, nobody's gonna take it if you don't finish it right away," Swindle said.

Wasp snorted at him again, but otherwise didn't respond. The two finished the rest of their energon in silence, each preoccupied thinking about the other and the mysteries he so carefully concealed.

It was Wasp who finally broke that silence, but he didn't mention what was really on his mind, instead simply asking, "So, how long 'til ship reaches doctor?"

"Oh, it shouldn't be too long." Swindle answered nonchalantly. "We'll probably get there by this evening."

"Who is this doctor, anyhow?" Wasp asked. "Friend of Swindle-bot's?"

"Yeah, an old pal of mine from way back when." Swindle replied, setting his half-empty cube aside. "Autobot, actually. Owes me a favor."

"Of course," Wasp said. "Everybody owes Swindle-bot _something_."

Swindle laughed. "It's better than things being the other way around!"

"True enough," Wasp answered, shrugging.

Swindle settled back into his cushion, looking intently over at Wasp. The ex-Autobot's optics focused on his, unblinking, just as they had done earlier. There was something strange about this sort of optical sensor contact, and whatever it was, Swindle didn't like it.

"So, what happens after we leave the doctor's?" Wasp asked.

"Well, I have a few more clients lined up, and then I think I mentioned before that we'll be heading through some backwoods galaxy on the way to the next stop." Swindle explained, his voice slightly distant. "We'll be visiting a few planets here and there, and I guess somewhere along the way, I'll drop you off."

"Wasp understands." Wasp answered, giving a nod. He still didn't break that optic contact, and Swindle was beginning to grow strangely unnerved by it. What the hell was this?

"What kind of place should I leave you at?" Swindle asked. Not that it mattered; whatever planet he chose, he'd be sold and gone long before the ship ever came within its orbit.

"Wasp doesn't really care." Wasp said, shrugging. "Wasp has only one goal: find Bumble-bot. And maybe Sarge-bot too, if he get the chance."

Swindle looked at him with a lopsided smirk. "So, you really don't have any plans past that? You can't very well go through life with such an empty goal."

Wasp glared at him. "Oh yeah? Then what's Swindle-bot's goal, if he's so smart?"

"I'm gonna retire young and rich as hell." Swindle answered, a smooth grin on his face and in his flowing voice. "Can't you just picture it, livin' easy on the beaches of Nebulos or off on some out-of-the-way aquatic moon? Or maybe even Earth; you'd be pretty well out of the way there, and they've got plenty of nice property available."

Wasp shuddered. Too much _water_ for his taste_._ Swindle ignored it and continued all the same.

"I'll have more femmes and servants than you can even count," he went on, as proudly as if he already had this stuff in the bag, "and all the luxuries money can buy. It's gonna be my own little piece of paradise."

"So, that's what all Swindle-bot's money is for?" Wasp asked.

"Pretty much." Swindle answered.

"But doesn't Swindle-bot already have enough credits for all that?"

"Wasp, my friend, I won't have enough money until I can never run out."

"Ah." Wasp nodded to show that he understood. "But won't Swindle-bot get lonely with all that money and no company?"

Swindle looked a bit confused by the question. "I won't get but so lonely with all those servants and whatnot." He said. "Besides that, I already spend my days on an empty ship."

"No you don't."

"Don't I?"

"No," Wasp said, his expression serious, "you have a passenger."

Swindle fell silent as he considered this. It was a strange answer, to be sure. What did Wasp care, one way or the other? Why the hell would it matter if he was just going to be dropping him off soon? While it was true that they had spent the past several lunar cycles together, it wasn't as if this was a permanent arrangement or anything. In fact, he would probably meet with the buyer just as soon as he was out of the hospital, and after that…

The strangest thing happened then.

Swindle was no longer lying on the ground. In fact, he was sitting up, hunched forward, his pain dulled away by the medicine. His treacherous servo was cupping Wasp's cheek, the other cradling the small of his back. His lips were pressed to Wasp's, his helm pushing lightly into the contact.

Wasp's optics went bright, and he gave a quiet sound something like a yip. He dropped the empty cube with a soft clatter to the ground. Then, slowly, he reached up, placing his servos on Swindle's sides as far back as he could reach, and leaned forward, pressing into the kiss.

When finally they parted, they hovered just inches from one another, staring into one another's optics, air rushing through their vents, emotions a tangle in their minds and sparks.

"Swindle-bot?" Wasp whispered breathlessly.

Something had changed irrevocably. Those feelings had not just been a passing fancy. Something was terribly wrong, and there was nothing Swindle could possibly do to fix that. He had succumbed to something even stronger than his greed, and it was something he could not even hope to name. But how, how had this happened? How could he continue? Was this something his doctor friend could give him a pill for?

Swindle pressed his lips against Wasp's once again, holding him close. Even if he could not name it, he could at least enjoy it, for now.


	12. Chapter 12: Liar

_Swindle & Wasp – The Difficulty in Finding What They Call "Beautiful"_

_Chapter 12_

_.  
_

It's a common misconception people have that one's first kiss with a particular person (or the first kiss one has had with _any_ person, which, in this case, it wasn't) is some big event with fireworks, sparks, glowing floaty things and other various special effects -- as seen in the kind of films that several civilizations are guilty of having made -- and, of course, a sudden feeling of closeness, intimacy, and/or true love.

This is only true in the case of the deluded, and adolescent human females. Essentially, though, that's redundant.

Once the strange and wondrous kiss was finally over, all the cliché panting and gasping and staring into one another's eyes (out of utter surprise more than anything) out of the way, Wasp reached up slowly and put his servos on Swindle's chassis. Then, before the merchant could even blink, he shoved him abruptly to the ground and scurried across the basement to get away from him.

The first kiss Swindle had with Wasp didn't have all the imaginary bells and whistles, but it really was an event. His helm was spinning, mind racing, body tense, and he was grasping to understand what the hell just happened.

"What the hell just happened?" He voiced, to no one in particular.

No one wasn't in the mood to answer.

Wasp, on the other hand, hissed, and muttered a few things; he didn't really have anything to say either. At least, nothing Swindle could make out.

Taking this as a sign that talking about it wasn't much of an option right now, Swindle decided to take inventory instead. He was pretty well confused, and his spark was fluttering like some love-struck human. His back ached too, but that was from Wasp chucking him like a fistful of bad lead crystals.

_This is ridiculous_, Swindle thought bitterly, staring up at the ceiling. _This can't possibly be happening. He's the merchandise for Primus sake! My ticket back into the green and out of debt and back home where I can get my credits back and just relax for a change! Shit, what's happening to me? Am I getting soft? Old? Lonely? Stupid? Fragging _crazy_?_

He shook his helm roughly and gripped it with his servos, letting the rapidly-dwindling pain shoot through his neck. _No, damn it Swindle! Get a hold of yourself, this is ridiculous! You just gotta make it to the Doc's and then you'll be home free. Ditch Wasp, get the credits… Yeah, yeah, it'll be fine._

It was around then that Wasp made his way back across the room and sat down next to Swindle.

"Swindle-bot, need to talk."

_Or not._

*****

It had been even less expected for Wasp than it had been for Swindle. The ex-Autobot uttered just four little words (five, counting the 'no' that came beforehand), and suddenly, Swindle had kissed him. Sure, kisses could be really small and friendly, or even frivolous and teasing, but this… This had been a real kiss, the kind that mechs used to show that they wanted another mech around, maybe long enough for dinner and an interface, maybe longer.

Wasp was sitting rather sulkily at the bottom of the steps. He wasn't really sure what he thought, or how he felt. 'Swindle-bot' was a callous mech who cared about little besides his own money. On top of that, at one point, he'd even given him a _bath,_ even if that had been lunar cycles ago.

Wasp figured he'd lied at least once about where they were heading. That is, the first time he'd asked, Swindle had told him they were going to his home, but the second time, he'd said it was a planet called Earth. Unless Swindle lived there, or was stopping by there on the way, he wasn't telling the whole truth.

Worse yet, though, Swindle associated with awful people and that's what had gotten him raped. The salesbot didn't really even care that it had happened to him, except that it meant he would have to spend some of his precious money to fix the damages. More than likely, this wasn't the first time it had happened to him. Some other bot had probably gotten to him well before the Skull-bot.

Sure, he had helped Wasp a lot in the time they'd known each other, but Wasp felt certain the merchant had some selfish ulterior motive for it. His mind wasn't really all there, but he'd regained enough sense since his escape to figure that out.

For now, he decided, it would be best to go back and face the salesbot and see what happened next. It was on this thought that he made his way back across the room and sat down by his side, looking down at the dark gray face with the most mild expression he'd worn in stellar cycles.

"Swindle-bot, need to talk." He said.

Swindle hesitated slightly.

"What about?" Swindle prompted.

"Why did Swindle-bot do that?" Wasp asked in turn. He blinked, and heard his optics give a soft chirp. He tapped the side of his helm irritably.

Swindle was silent. It was rare that the merchant didn't have a quick, smooth answer for something, but this wasn't an ordinary situation. Wasp doubted that he knew what would drive _any_ mech to kiss someone. Love was a more-than-foreign concept to him, to be sure.

"Well, I, uh…" Swindle started, slower than Wasp had ever heard him speak before. He paused, and tried again, this time speaking as calmly and quickly as ever. "I just wanted to show you my gratitude."

"Gratitude?" Wasp echoed.

"Yeah, you know…" Swindle responded. "You really saved my function, Wasp."

"So, is that how Swindle-bot always shows his gratitude?" Wasp asked sarcastically, poking the other's upper arm with a sharp fingertip.

"As a matter of fact, yes." Swindle answered curtly, giving a nod. He reached up and brushed Wasp's servo away. "Cut that out." He added.

"Swindle-bot doesn't think it might be more than that?" Wasp pressed.

"Nope, not at all."

"Swindle-bot is a liar."

Swindle shrugged it off nonchalantly. Of course, he'd probably been called way worse things than that, being the kind of guy he was. Hell, that was probably one of the nicest things anybody had ever said about him.

"According to my handheld terminal, we'll be landing in less than a quarter of a megacycle." Swindle said, changing the subject. "You need to get ready."

"Wasp isn't going to fall for that." Wasp said grumpily.

"Oh? Fall for what?" Swindle inquired, acting as if he had no idea what the younger mech was talking about.

"Why did Swindle-bot kiss Wasp, and _don't_ say it was gratitude!" Wasp demanded.

Swindle took a moment to come up with an answer. The worst part was, he didn't even really know himself. Even if he'd felt like answering honestly, which he didn't, what the slag was he supposed to tell him?

"Well, Wasp," Swindle said smoothly, "I think I'm starting to fall for you and your, err, rather _feral_ charms."

Wasp glared electrodaggers down at him. "Liar," he hissed.

With that, the ex-Autobot crossed the room once more and disappeared up the stairs, irritable as ever.

*****

"_No… Swindle-bot has a passenger."_

The words echoed in Swindle's mind. Were they the cause or just the catalyst for that sudden outburst?

Of course this was just a passing phase. Things wouldn't be like this once Wasp was sold off and he was back home, debts paid and worries gone. Of course they wouldn't. Of course things would go back to normal.

Swindle gritted his dental plating and covered his optics with a palm.

This was all Lockdown's fault. If he hadn't decided to get stupid, none of this would've happened. He wouldn't be lying here right now, and Wasp wouldn't be running laps through a mind that should have been focused exclusively on work and credits.

The fact that he could hear the ship announcing the beginning of the landing procedure offered little comfort to the sulking Swindle; things just were not going his way. In fact, it wouldn't be a stretch at all to say that they were going shitty, and he was going nuts.


	13. Chapter 13: Doctor

_Swindle & Wasp – The Difficulty in Finding What They Call "Beautiful"  
Chapter 13_

_.  
_

The landing went every bit as smoothly as one would expect from such a high-end craft; the ship's onboard computer guided the vessel unerringly through preprogrammed procedures, bringing it to a quiet descent towards a silvery, well-lit dock.

Wasp, sitting upstairs in the cabin, watched with fascination as the ship slowly hovered downward toward a huge electronic panel lined with flashing red lights and pale blue electronic caution lines. The panel's two sections separated and slid apart, opening like a dark, eerie, gaping maw as the ship approached.

Wasp had always been a careless student, but he had paid at least _some_ attention when it came to landing procedures; after all, at the time, he'd thought that he was eventually going to be able to fly many different space craft in the ongoing hunt for Decepticons. The way he'd envisioned his future, by now, he would have been an ace pilot and a fearsome Prime, giving orders to his bossy former teacher and all of his idiot classmates.

Of course, things hadn't turned out anything like that, but all the same, that knowledge had stuck with him. With the ship drawing ever closer to the entryway below, a beacon would be activated to guide the ship into the landing bay, though a few of the higher-end docks might have gravitational fields to automatically pull incoming ships to one of the available spaces. Everything was done according to set procedures so that landing, once one of the most difficult parts of flying, was made as simple as transforming.

Wasp, of course, found those procedures dull, and as a youth had honestly wished that he could do things the old-fashioned way, navigating his perilous way down to an unmarked dock. But all the same, at least it kept things safe and easy so he could focus on more important things; like firing his overheating turrets at the hundreds of Decepticon ships he'd once felt certain would be tailing him as he made his emergency landing, his left wing, part of the starboard, and both thrusters shot out by enemy fighter jets.

Presently, the ex-Autobot sighed. The landing beacon made contact with the ship's central computer, and the craft was submerged in the landing bay's walls. Wasp was met once again with his crappy reality, a damaged mind in a damaged body watching a routine landing free of dramatic dogfights, firestorms, and last stands.

Once the ship had touched down, it shut down automatically, the noise of engines and machinery fading away to silence. Only the lights remained on, something Wasp found he was rather grateful for.

He made his way through the hall and down the stairs to Swindle, who was presently pushing himself up off the ground.

"What's Swindle-bot doing?" Wasp demanded.

"It's been a couple of solar cycles, so I'm feeling a little healthier." Swindle answered through gritted dental hardware, rising to wobbly legs. "Oh sure, it hurts like a bitch. But how else am I supposed to get up the stairs?" He gave a dry little chuckle, and winced.

Wasp shrugged. "Then go ahead. Wasp doesn't care."

All the same, though, he figured he should at least walk behind him and try to keep the stupid merchant from falling back down the stairs as he slowly, clumsily limped and stumbled his way up, not so much by way of lending the larger mech physical support as just helping him maintain his balance. Sure, he was pretty much _made_ of armor, but if he _did_ manage to hurt himself any worse, that would mean they'd have to stay here even longer.

Wherever 'here' even was.

*****

When the odd pair stepped out of the ship, there was a welcome party there to meet them. Wasp eyed the strangers warily, but Swindle, as expected, greeted them with confidence, a broad smile on his face and in his voice. He doubtlessly would have spread out his servos and hurried down the docking ramp with manufactured joy, but as it was, his soreness and stiffness prevented it.

"Ha-ha-ha! First Aid! It's been so long!" Swindle greeted him like an old friend, and right away started talking like a salesman. "How've you been, you old dog? Say, thanks for having us over on such short notice. It really means a lot, let me tell you." He flinched and gritted his dental plating, almost as if to emphasize the point.

A red-and-white mech with a pale blue visor came forward to help Swindle down the ramp, an expression of concern-- or maybe suspicion, come to think of it-- on his faceplate. Presumably, this tall, slender, feeble-looking stranger was the doctor Swindle had been coming to see.

He took Swindle by the arm and carefully led him away, talking to him in some rapid, foreign dialect. He sounded fairly concerned about the salesbot, but Wasp couldn't understand a word the other mech said. The ex-Autobot grew irritated when Swindle took to speaking the same strange language, and even more so when the two started going back and forth like that, leaving Wasp completely out of it. Not that it was any of his business, he supposed, but all the same, it was pretty irritating not knowing what was going on.

All the same, Wasp followed after the two, surrounded by mechs of various builds and color schemes similar to the skinny doctor's. All of them looked very stern, and all of them watched the newcomers carefully, their optics fixed and their expressions dark with a more blatant suspicion. Security guards, Wasp figured, though Primus knew why the skinny doctor should need so many tough-looking mechs.

He shrugged it off, more concerned with following Swindle and the skinny doctor than with any weirdo bodyguards, but all the same, something didn't quite sit right with him about the whole thing. He'd have to ask the salesbot about it later. For now, he'd just act the good little passenger and tag along for the ride. At least that way, he could keep himself out of trouble and hopefully shorten the time he would be forced to spend in this strange place.

*****

Swindle was taken into a hall that Wasp wasn't allowed access to, much to his chagrin. The strangers simply took the salesbot inside, letting the electronic door shut right in Wasp's faceplate, and that was that. It locked automatically with a smug-sounding chirp, and any would-be green trespassers safely on the outside.

With no way to break through-- or break _down_-- the door, the ex-Autobot took to pacing back and forth in front of it, glaring at it and the two guards posted on either side with large, gleaming purple optics. He wasn't worried about Swindle, he assured himself. He just wanted to make sure that the merchant was safe and would recover so that he could pilot the ship and get him to wherever Bumble-bot was. The salesbot was his transportation, and there was nothing more to it. Nothing more at all.

He paced like this-- thoughts remaining centered on how much he hated the salesbot and did not care for him in any sense of the word-- for over a megacycle, until his stiff legs eventually started to creak and groan with the effort. His time in prison had done a lot not only to his mental wellbeing, but to his physical wellbeing as well, and though he tried to avoid letting it get in the way, there were times when he simply couldn't avoid the problems that came with such a damaged body.

Legs squeaking obnoxiously, he made his way across the cold, unfriendly white waiting room to a simple steel couch, where he flopped down unceremoniously onto his back. Wasp spread out across the less-than-comfortable seating, stretching his servos and peds before turning onto his belly and switching off his optics.

For now, there was nothing he could do but wait until Swindle came back out. Pacing until his legs fell off wouldn't do anybody any good, and neither would standing in front of the door like some animal waiting for its master-- or for that matter, picking fights with those big, brawny guards. He supposed the only option he really had was to rest his optics for a little while.

*****

Wasp had no idea how long he'd been in stasis, but as soon as he heard the sound of that door opening, he snapped awake with a start. His optics took a moment to focus, but standing at the door, he saw the red-and-white doctor, looking at him with a turned-up faceplate and a digital notepad in his servo.

Wasp sat up and climbed to his peds. The doctor stood perfectly still, even as the ex-Autobot cautiously approached, sniffing lightly at the air. Wasp cringed; the smells of rust-cleaner and disinfectant were so strong in the air here.

The doctor looked down at him and said something in that foreign dialect of his, to which Wasp responded by tilting his helm in utter confusion.

"What doctor-bot say?" Wasp inquired. "Wasp doesn't understand."

The other mech stopped, as if surprised by this. He paused thoughtfully, then cleared his throat and tried again.

"My name is First Aid. You must know already, I am a doctor." The doctor began. The language seemed almost as foreign to him as his own natural language was to Wasp, and each word came slowly and awkwardly, as if it didn't fit quite right in his mouth. His accent was thick, and might have sounded refined if he didn't have so much trouble with the dialect. "And you are then Wasp, correct?"

"Yes, and Wasp wants to know where Swindle-bot is, and if he's okay!" Wasp demanded.

"Patience." First Aid answered. "Swindle, he ask me to come to you and ask questions of you physical health. Then, I take you to see him. Is a deal?"

Wasp folded his servos and glared at the stranger. "Fine." He said. "Hurry up."

This could be a pretty difficult conversation. With First Aid speaking a language very foreign to him and Wasp unable even to refer to himself in the first person, it would be a wonder if they didn't end up going in circles.

First Aid stepped into the room, and the electronic door slid shut behind him with another of those smug beeps. He removed an electronic pen from its holder on the side his notepad, and held it poised to write.

"Now then, Wasp." He said. "Tell me about you physical problems. You have trouble of speech and walking, yes? Is there anything else, then?"

It took Wasp a moment to sort that out, but tougher still was deciding whether or not he really wanted to answer that. "Why Doctor-bot want to know, anyway?"

"Because Swindle ask me to repair you." First Aid replied. "He say he pick up whole tab, you just ask what you want fixed."

Wasp narrowed his optics. Okay, now he _knew_ this mech was lying. Why would Swindle ever willingly spend money, especially on somebody else? There was no way the greedy money-worshipper would ever do something so charitable as to _pay_ to get Wasp repaired.

Something more than a little fishy was going on, and he didn't like it. Whatever this doctor wanted, it could _not_ be good. Especially if the skinny mech was dumb enough to make up a story as farfetched as Swindle _giving away money_, let alone to expect somebody who'd spent more than three cycles with the salesbot to believe it. Given the way that Swindle had greeted him earlier, it certainly didn't make any sense that First Aid wouldn't even know who the merchant _was_.

All the same, if he just played along for now, he could probably get past and figure out where Swindle was and what had happened to him. With any luck, the glitch-head would still be okay back there. Hopefully, this doctor hadn't squealed on him and called in the law-- even the Elite Guard!

Wasp stiffened and bit back a hiss. No way. Swindle was a stupid glitch-head, but no way he would deal with somebody that might call Autobots in on him. Oh, but wait-- he'd dealt with the Skull-bot, and look what _that_ had gotten him! One of the worst things _about_ Swindle was the treacherous and unsavory crowd he preferred to deal with! It was entirely possible that First Aid, an Autobot himself, really _had_ called the Elite Guard, and that they might be headed here this very nanoklik.

_Stop, got to think rationally_, Wasp reminded himself. _Don't let him smell your fear._

"Tch. The question is, what _doesn't_ need fixing?" Wasp answered, imitating Swindle's suave salesbot voice. "Really, Doctor-bot. Wasp needs some pretty thorough work inside and out. He'll take the full package."

First Aid looked incredulously at him, the visor masking his optics doing nothing to disguise his utter distaste. "I see, you have spend much time with Swindle." He said.

"What's it to Doctor-bot?" Wasp continued, keeping up the voice. "Wasp ask for complete repair, so give it to him."

The corners of First Aid's mouth turned downward in a barely-concealed frown. "So it is, I see." He answered. "But you would care, then, to give outline of symptoms first?"

"Doctor-bot is smart, Wasp sure." Wasp answered, waving him off nonchalantly. "He can figure out Wasp's symptoms, no problem."

"Certainly," First Aid replied, a note of irritation creeping into his voice, "But would it not save us both time if you are to, what is the word? _Cooperate?_"

The way he stressed the word cooperate, Wasp felt pretty sure he knew full well what it meant. "How's that?" He asked.

"Because it save us many tests, you see, dear Wasp." First Aid answered, his agitation now clearly audible in his voice. "And tests, they are important and costly. Not to be waste, so frivolously."

"Wasp doesn't care. Besides, running tests means get all the problems, right? Maybe Doctor-bot would see something Wasp did not know was wrong."

First Aid lifted his helm and sighed exasperatedly. Whatever he wanted with Wasp, it clearly wasn't the ex-Autobot's back-talking and sarcasm. But then, all at once, his expression-- or rather, his _mouth_ --reverted back to its neutral state, and the tension from his body released. He tilted his helm back down to look at Wasp's optics through his all-concealing visor.

Wasp watched the sudden transition in awe, amazed by a change in emotion and release of frustration rivaling even Swindle.

"Please, will you forgive me for my undue irateness?" First Aid asked calmly. "I have had many stress lately, due to much unexpected work."

Wasp tilted his helm to one side, baffled by the change of heart. He also wondered, if for but a brief moment, if 'irateness' was even a word. "Okay?"

"Good, thank you very much." First Aid said, and, oddly, _smiled_. "Alright then. So, if I am to let you see Swindle, then you cooperate, yes? I make you believe Swindle pay for bill?"

Wasp nodded emphatically. "If Wasp hears it with his own audial receivers, then maybe, he'll be a little more inclined to listen."

"Okay, it is settle." First Aid said. "Follow. I take you, and see Swindle. He tell you that is no lie."

He turned and opened the door. Wasp needed no further beckoning, and eagerly sprinted ahead of him, staying several steps ahead as he was guided through the eerie halls, all of which were as cold, white, and stale as the waiting room and every single hall before and after.

Wherever he was-- and whatever this weird, unnerving, bipolar doctor mech had done with him --that stupid-idiot-moron-glitch-head-fragger Swindle had better be alright.


	14. Chapter 14: Trust

_Swindle & Wasp - The Difficulty in Finding What They Call "Beautiful"  
Chapter 14_

_.  
_

For a mech who was really nothing more than transportation—and in particular, a mech that Wasp said repeatedly he wasn't worried about—Wasp found that he was very worried about Swindle. When First Aid let him into the room with the merchant, the ex-Autobot scurried over to his bedside, unable to hide his concern for the salesbot.

"Swindle-bot online?" Wasp asked.

When there came no response, Wasp grew anxious.

The room was intimidating enough in itself, as white and indistinct as all the rest, but lined with all sorts of unnerving equipment Wasp could never even _imagine_ a purpose for. Swindle lied flat on his back on a silver work table in the middle of the cramped quarters, optics dark, a servo laying limp on his torso.

He looked pretty dead to Wasp. The ex-Autobot wasn't sure if he liked that or not—between Swindle being his only means of finding and getting revenge on Bumble-bot, and all these weird and unsorted feelings flying around like schizophrenic robot vultures at this point—but there would be no doubt in anybody's mind that the salesbot probably deserved it. One way or another, the idea of somebody besides Wasp killing off Swindle made him pretty mad, so in the end, he decided that it was a bad thing.

"Swindle-bot!" Wasp snapped, scratching the merchant's arm with rough, uneven fingertips. "Swindle-bot wake up, _now_! Wasp not tell Swindle-bot twice."

A large purple optic faded online, turning lazily in Wasp's direction. It switched off again, and Swindle stretched, gritting his teeth, his servos drifting up over his helm.

"Ah… Sounds like I've got a visitor." Swindle said, his voice tired but cheerful. Both optics came online this time, and, with considerable effort, he pushed himself up into a sort of halfway sitting position, leaning against the headboard of the medical berth. He turned to his irritable companion and grinned. "Looks like you're just as chipper as ever, Wasp."

Wasp snarled. "Swindle-bot's not funny."

"How would you know?" Swindle asked. "You've never heard my stuff!" He chuckled, mostly to himself. "That was just a bit of friendly sarcasm. Now, if you want to hear some _real_ jokes, I used to work at this comedy club before I became an—ahem—_entrepreneur, _and I picked up some pretty good ones."

Wasp folded his servos and snorted. "Stupid. Swindle-bot come all this way just to make dumb jokes? Swindle-bot can do that on _his_ time."

Swindle laughed—and pretty genuinely, too—but First Aid's faceplate remained just as stone-cold as before, his lips a straight line.

"Yes then, ahem." First Aid said.

Swindle paused and looked up at the doctor, and his smile became somewhat strained. "Yes, First Aid?"

If Wasp hadn't been angry enough about, well, _everything_, the skinny mech took this moment and decided to make it worse. Of all things, he started speaking in that gibberish language of his, a tongue altogether alien to the ex-Autobot. Worse still, he was talking _over_ him, to Swindle, locking Wasp completely out.

Swindle answered in kind, speaking First Aid's language with no effort at all. Wasp had seen the salesbot speak other languages before, and it always felt weird, in a way. He couldn't understand a word of the strange phrases Swindle said, and for all he knew, he could be talking about _selling_ Wasp or something stupid like that.

In this instance, while the ex-Autobot was pretty sure that wasn't the case—at least, it better not be—he was still convinced that they were talking about him. What else could it be, that they would start talking over him like that?

Swindle gestured at Wasp, who bristled in turn. They _were_ talking about him!

Finally, the no-good salesbot turned to him and said—in plain, proper Cybertronian, this time—"So, Wasp. Giving the ol' doc a hard time?"

"Yes." Wasp snorted, folding his servos poutily.

Swindle chuckled. "Well, as hard as it may be to believe, I really have decided to pay to get you all fixed up. Consider it my thanks for rescuing me."

Wasp looked in awe at Swindle, caught completely off-guard. His optics widened, and his servos fell by his side before raising threateningly. "What Doctor-bot do with _real_ Swindle-bot?" He exclaimed.

"No, no." Swindle said. "It's really me. And I really am getting you repaired. C'mon, you can't possibly be comfortable like that, right? You're all busted up, have trouble talking… and don't you have a little trouble with your vision?"

Wasp narrowed his optics. "How'd Swindle-bot know _that_?"

"Squinting at the book I got you—until I fixed the font of course—confusing the medicine bottles, stumbling down the stairs over and over again… I figured you might be having some problems."

"Maybe this is true… But why would Swindle-bot want to have Wasp repaired?"

"Like I said, Wasp; gratitude." Swindle gestured outward as he said this, emphasizing the amounts of 'gratitude' he supposedly felt. It was interesting just how much the jerk tended to do out of 'gratitude'.

"Swindle-bot likes to keep his motives hidden, and it's annoying." Wasp sighed. "Swindle-bot might think he's an enigma, but Wasp knows he does everything for himself. Wasp won't let himself be fooled."

"Be that as it may, it's rude to refuse a gift." Swindle said, and shrugged.

"Fine. Wasp will let Doctor-bot do repairs. But Wasp still waiting for Swindle-bot to try something." Wasp huffed, crossing his servos once more.

"Like what, dear friend?" Swindle asked, cheerful as ever.

Wasp had no idea. He just knew that the salesbot was bad news, especially hiding his true intentions behind phony excuses like the aforementioned 'gratitude'. During the time that they'd spent together, he'd become rather _adjusted_ to him, but Wasp still didn't know if he could really _trust_ Swindle. It was hard enough for him to put faith in anyone, between his troubled past and his unstable condition, and the merchant didn't make it much easier by keeping all these secrets.

It was fast becoming clear that he was reaching a turning point, and with that, he had a choice to make. If he put his trust in Swindle, he would potentially leave himself vulnerable should the merchant turn out to be as treacherous as the Autobots that made him this way. That also left him open for further infringements on their 'no-touching' agreement, and everyone knew that kisses and hugs could just be the beginning.

But then again, Swindle made some good points. One of the things Wasp wanted most, to be _himself_ again, glitch-free and everything, was dangling before him. All he had to do was trust the salesbot enough to take it. It wasn't easy, but it was the only way to get what he really wanted. Besides, Swindle wasn't all _that_ bad. It might be kind of nice to not-quite hate his traveling companion.

*****

Even with the promise of finally being whole again, Wasp still wasn't sure about all this. Not only did he not like First Aid, he still couldn't really get over what happened the last time he'd met one of Swindle's associates. Even without having seen it happen, he'd seen the aftermath, and it had reminded him entirely too much of his own experiences. No matter how he felt about Swindle, he never wanted to see another mech—save perhaps a particular few of his former classmates—have to experience it. _Especially _if he was going to have to play nursemaid to said mech.

The damaged youth was led down yet another long, creepy white hall, into another nondescript white room, where he was poked and prodded and examined relentlessly, hooked up to the strange machinery, and discussed in First Aid's gibberish native language. Wasp switched off his optics and decided to just try and bear it, reminding himself again and again about the rewards that awaited him.

He just wasn't ready for all the stuff he'd have to go through to _get_ those rewards.

It was like the brig all over again, all those servos touching and groping where they weren't wanted! Inside, he tried to distance himself from it, tried to wander off to some quiet little place in his subconscious mind where this wasn't happening, where there weren't servos all over his body. But there was no 'happy place' waiting for him. He could find no such peace; only fear, uncertainty, and the horrible memories he tried desperately to seal away.

Wasp tried to tell himself that this was just an examination, that it was all necessary for him to be whole and healthy again, but he could barely believe the words as they whispered through his own mind. His engine groaned loudly and his vents clicked open, letting air rush through them to cool his systems before he overheated.

For a single terrible moment, he let his optics flicker online. The faces looking down at him were so cold; unfamiliar and without compassion. His fear distorted them into demonic images, into the sadistic forms of prisoners without faction, without reason. Denizens of the brig that existed only to torment him and bend him to their will, physically and emotionally.

The ex-Autobot's optics snapped on completely, shining brilliantly in his overwhelming terror. His body went tense and he tried to spring up, to bolt, but the servos grabbed him and forced him back down to the table. Hurled into a state of panic, Wasp began to kick and struggle madly, hissing and shrieking at the red-and-white monsters. He could find no escape; only servos, all those servos! He couldn't get away! He couldn't free himself from that horrible, sparkless First Aid and his cronies!

This wasn't worth it! He would rather stay broken forever than have to withstand this torture. His strategy had gone to pieces in an instant. He'd completely lost sight of the prize at the end of the trial, and now all he wanted was to be back home, alone somewhere warm and quiet, far away from all the turmoil and pain.

"Oh hush."

Wasp froze at the sound of the voice. The doctors kept on hovering over him, speaking—to him or to each other, he couldn't tell—in low voices. Their servos kept touching him, using various cold metal instruments, checking over him. For a brief moment, the ex-Autobot didn't notice any of it.

"You can't even put up with a little check-up, Wasp?" The voice teased. "Come on, you're stronger than that."

A new servo, tan and purple, slid in amongst the overwhelming red and white. It brought with it a sense of relief, of familiarity, of something tangible to bring Wasp back around to reality. It presented something that Wasp could bite down on, very, very hard. Right where he had already bitten it once several lunar cycles ago.

Its owner let out a sharp cry of pain, stomping his ped in startled irritation, and Wasp smiled, letting his optics fade. Still biting down hard, he relaxed, his doubts about Swindle and the salesbot's intentions quelled... at least for now.


	15. Chapter 15: Back Door

_Swindle & Wasp – The Difficulty in Finding What They Call "Beautiful"_

_Chapter 15_

Wasp awoke to find himself in another of those blank, nondescript white rooms from before. The smells of cleaning solutions and rust remover were still strong in the air, and as weird as it all was, Wasp found it reassuring.

He was back in the place he was before—not that he was really sure where that was besides a pricey asteroid. He was lying on a metal berth, by himself, away from any more groping hands and creepy doctor-bots. And for the first time in a while, as simple as it all was, Wasp found he was content.

So he lied there, staring up at the blank, nondescript white ceiling, his mind not really wandering as, at the moment, it was perfectly content to stay where it was. He would've counted the tiles— but there weren't any.

This didn't go on for long before a beep sounded and the door hissed open. Wasp snapped into a sitting position, startled and ready to bolt.

Swindle laughed. "Just as anxious as ever, huh? Figures."

Wasp's optic fell on the merchant's damaged servo. The old bandages had been replaced with new ones, of course. The ex-Autobot chuckled at the foggy memory of what had caused this fresh wound.

But then something occurred to Wasp. He could see Swindle's servo so clearly; even make out the exact texture of the synthetic fiber wrapping his palm. When he climbed up and off the berth, there came no creak from damaged joints, and he didn't have that particular hunch to his back. He really was back to normal!

"Swindle-bot! Wasp is…"

Wasp frowned. Right, so they could fix everything that was wrong with him _except_ what really mattered? Of course! Everything that could go wrong with Wasp's life always did. It had been that way ever since he'd signed up for the stupid Elite Guard all those stellar cycles ago and he swore, and really, if he ever got his servos on Bumble-bot, and Long-bot, and Sarge-bot, and…

"Wasp is what?" Swindle prompted.

"Wasp can't talk right! Wasp still talking all _wrong_!" He shrieked in frustration, snapped out of his inner venting.

"Hey, hey, take it easy." Swindle said quietly, patting at the air. "Ol' First Aid got the glitches, but it'll be a while before you get the hang of it. But I assure you, I really did have them fix that!"

"How can Wasp be sure?" Wasp asked suspiciously.

Swindle put his servos on his hips, rising to his full height and looking disapprovingly at Wasp. "Hey, give me some credit here! Did I _not_ just put all that money into getting you repaired?"

He had a point. There was one more thing bothering Wasp about this, though. "But then, why's Swindle-bot's servo still all wrapped up?"

Swindle raised the servo in question to chassis-level and looked down at it with a guilty pout. "To be honest, I'd rather wait 'til I can weld it than let First Aid mess with it it. Do you know what that guy _charges_? I mean, he's the best of the best, I know. But come on! For one, well, _two_ little bites? No thank you, sir!"

Wasp laughed. How completely Swindle!

"Hmph. Not like my price, then? You would be, eh, wishing to be off elsewhere then, perhaps?"

*****

Swindle smacked his forehead with his palm. He'd forgotten an important rule of the universe; say something bad about someone in the same building as you, no matter where they may be, and he _will_ appear in time to hear it. Even if that means defying time, physics, or even gravity. The other person will hear it. Period.

He turned on his heel and put on a big, mischievous grin.

"Oh, you know I'm just joking." He said, in First Aid's own language. "Like I said, you're the best there is. You run a private clinic on your own asteroid. You have a right to charge what you want! And aren't I _gladly_ paying what you asked for both my repairs _and_ Wasp's?"

Behind him, Wasp snorted. The striped nuisance had no clue what the arms dealer was talking about, but he'd more than likely heard his own name mentioned.

"Gladly?" First Aid scoffed. "You tried to get me to lower it, even in spite of the fact that I only performed the operations as a favor. You do realize how long my waiting list is, don't you? I am not running a charity operation, Swindle."

In his own language, the slender doctor was every bit as fluid a speaker as he was awkward in Swindle's. When he tried to use the foreign tongue, his accent was fairly comparable to Earth's 'Russian' accent.

"Hey, I know that better than anybody." Swindle replied. "But I think our connection runs a little stronger even than credits, don't you?"

First Aid smirked. "That's a funny thing to hear, coming from you. I don't really think that's true."

"Huh! If it weren't for me, you'd still be rotting back in Polyhex." Irritation grew in Swindle's voice. What way was that to talk to your _savior_?

"Perhaps." First Aid said coolly. "But I am already showing you my gratitude by doing favors like this. What else could you possibly wish from me, hm?"

"Hey, I'm not trying to get anything out of you, I'm just saying you should maybe try and be a little more personable! It's not like I've ever tried to cheat you."

"It doesn't matter if you try to cheat me, Swindle. Despite our connection, perhaps I just don't want my clinic associated with you or your kind."

"_My kind_? Oh don't go playing the goody two-servos on me. I know you treat Decepticons all the time—under the table or up front, it's all the same to you if they have deep pockets, isn't it? Hell, you'd treat a brat with a circuitry hiccup if his progenitors had the credits." Swindle laughed, waving a servo. "You and I are exactly the same!"

"We are nothing alike!" First Aid snapped, fury in his voice. His visor went blank momentarily, and when it came back online he was instantly calm once more. "I meant that you are both a half-breed and a rather notorious arms dealer working outside the law." There he went again, bipolar as ever. One would think that a doctor with his level of skill would be able to fix his own glitches.

Swindle frowned. "A half-breed? Since when does that matter?"

"Relations couldn't be worse between the Decepticons and Autobots, you know that." First Aid explained. "I'm certain you know better than I do that the Decepticons are finally getting ready for the counterstrike. Nobody knows what planet, perhaps, but they are. Megatron himself has sent a transmission to the refugees and all of the Decepticons up and took off."

"What're you getting at, here?" Swindle tilted his helm slightly. Behind him, Wasp watched with interest, optics bright and focused. Though the ex-Autobot couldn't understand a word of the conversation, the fluctuating tension and volume of their voices intrigued him.

"So a second war is coming. Don't act like you don't know it; you've probably been working with the Decepticons this whole time."

Swindle wasn't about to deny that—in fact, he'd gone to that mysterious planet called "Earth" and dealt personally with Megatron—but he had nothing to say. If he'd been getting money for talking, hey, that might be another story, but as it stood he really didn't have anything to gain from it, and he was already in a fowl mood after First Aid's previous comments, so in the end he decided it best not to say anything.

"It's an image thing." First Aid went on coldly. "Nothing personal. With all the recent hubbub, it's akin to going around behind your mate's back. You can be perfectly fond of this mech-on-the-side, but you still want him to use the back door. In reality, treating a case like yours might even be _worse_ than treating a proper Decepticon."

Swindle sighed. He knew exactly what First Aid was getting at; in fact, put in his position, he certainly would've done the same thing. Only for that stellar-cycles-old debt was he even here now, able to get treatment for his wounds, and Wasp's as well.

"Alright, you got me there." The arms dealer said, rubbing at his chin. "Guess I really don't have much room to complain… Doesn't stop me from being displeased with the whole thing, though."

Though his face was obscured, First Aid's voice took on a treacherous smile. "Get over it, Swindle, this is just a minor inconvenience. Think of it this way; with this nice big war coming on, you're going to be rolling in credits and on your way to that retirement fantasy of yours. Isn't that all you've ever wanted?"

Swindle's laid-back response, accompanied by tossing back his head and grinning, came immediately—but his neural processor took a moment to catch up with the rest of him.

Wait. _Was _it all he'd ever wanted? Was he on this train of thought yet again?

The runner, doing laps in a mind that should have been bent on nothing but credits, was back again. The banter between Swindle and First Aid continued—and all the while, Wasp splayed himself out on the berth and went back into stasis, altogether exhausted from his ordeal, operation, and enough sedatives to knock out _two_ giant, fat-ass Strikas—but Swindle's mind was somewhere else entirely.

He was busy planning and re-planning his future, wondering where he might be in another hundred stellar cycles or so. That had been bugging him a little—well, a _lot_ lately. This was mostly due to the introduction of certain variables, like his doctor's bills setting him back to the point where traverse to the next planet over might actually not prove possible. Even if he managed to meet with that buyer about Wasp, and sell the little menace to boot, he might not be able to get himself back in the black at least enough to refuel the ship, pay off his debts, and get his ass back to his cash. The worst part was, he was feeling pretty positive at this point he wouldn't be able to part with a thing he was both utterly fascinated and utterly smitten with. If the striped menace had found a way to be about as important to him than his beloved money, enough that he would question his own future just to have the damn thing, Swindle had no idea how he could ever let him go.

"Say, First Aid." Swindle said casually, stepping just to the doctor's side and draping an arm around his shoulders. "Is there anything I can do to help around here? Oh you know, just a little something here and there to pay the bills and—"

"Back door, Swindle." First Aid cut him off.

"Ah. Right-o then."

He would just have to think of another way. Or else, his aft was pretty much owned. Swindle winced at a sudden pang of soreness in his rear and rubbed at it tenderly.

Make that _again._


	16. Chapter 16: Fortune

_Swindle & Wasp – The Difficulty in Finding What They Call "Beautiful"_

_Chapter 16_

Wasp awoke to the strangest sight he thought he might ever see, a sight with the kind of impossible quality typically attributed to fantasy creatures, legendary figures, and those organic monsters that younger Autobots always said would come out to feast on anybody who stayed out after curfew.

He awoke to the sight of Swindle looking _anxious_.

Well, maybe that was putting it a little lightly. The arms dealer was sitting on the bottom of the berth, looking off to the side, chewing the tips of his fingers—something Wasp had never seen him do—rapidly tapping the heel of one of his peds, and mumbling to himself without even holding a calculator—something Wasp had _really _never seen him do. Swindle didn't really look so much _anxious_ as he looked like a _nervous wreck_.

"Swindle-bot, something wrong?" Wasp offered. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and leaned towards the salesman.

Swindle arched and his helm snapped around to look at Wasp. He yelped, but cut himself off with a sharp bite to the line of his own lip.

"Fine," Swindle replied through his teeth. "Just fine, Wasp. How're you feeling?"

Wasp tilted his helm to one side. "Wasp is… No, um, Aiiiiii am doing fine." He replied awkwardly.

Swindle released his lip, wincing as the quick, stinging pain set in, and flashed a grin. As always, he snapped right back into his cheery salesman demeanor— but this time, not only could Wasp see through it, he could see through it without even having to _look_. It was so phony, so distant and strange. There was something terribly wrong, and that made Wasp feel uneasy in turn.

"Great, fantastic!" Swindle exclaimed. "Try it again. Say, 'I am doing well'."

"Aiiiiii am doing well." Wasp repeated, stretching the 'I' like a rubber band. He wasn't used to his processor being able to handle normal speech, and it actually threw him rather off-kilter.

"Can you say my name?" Swindle asked.

"Swindle-bot." Wasp answered confidently.

Swindle put on a bit of a mock pout. "Really, that's the best you can do? How come you can handle 'I' but you can't say 'Swindle'?"

"Swindle-bot." Wasp repeated. "It is your name."

Swindle laughed. "And now you've said 'your', too! You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"

"Think of it like nickname," Wasp answered mischievously. "Wasp likes 'Swindle-bot' better anyway."

"If you say so." Swindle said, shrugging. With that, he stood and went to the door. "Now then, if you'll excuse me, I'm afraid I have some things I really need to take care of- business things, you understand. Just stay here and try to rest, alright?"

Wasp huffed. "But, Wasp will get bored in here."

"You mean 'I', don't you?" Swindle sighed good-naturedly, still clearly just putting on airs. Whatever was on the salesbot's mind, it had to be _big_. If Swindle didn't think he could talk or bargain his way out of whatever trouble he'd gotten himself in, then it probably involved somebody even scarier than Doctor-bot and Skull-bot, and bent on making sure the sneaky arms dealer suffered- financially or otherwise, Wasp couldn't guess.

Either way, he was starting to get the impression that the merchant was probably going to get put offline or something, and that really kind of worried him. Or on the other hand, maybe he would just have all his money taken away. He actually wasn't really sure which would scare Swindle more.

Putting on a smile and a strong front was easy enough, but for the first time since he'd made his escape from Cybertron, Swindle wasn't really sure how the future could be anything but bleak. He'd always been a very upbeat person, inside and out, happy with his money and able to make as much as he needed to get himself out of any situation, any time.

For the second time, he found himself reviewing the life he'd had. It had started out rocky, thanks to his _unorthodox_ origin but, overall, he'd had more than his fair share of good fortune- after all, if Fortune didn't happen to smile on him, he'd just talk smooth to it for a while and see what he could sucker it into.

It was something he'd learned as a mere scrap drone back on Cybertron. He'd had very humble origins, after all, since he'd come from a traitorous soldier and a poor merchant, the latter having raised him single-handedly in a special Decepticon "settlement". He'd lived through hard times, didn't like it, and decided to make something better of himself- starting during his roguish days of youth, suckering Autobots and civilians out of their credits using nothing more than his wits and stolen scraps from the local junkyard. Those days had set the stage for the merchant's lucrative career, and he'd come a long, _long_ way since then.

But things seemed so different now. The fact of the matter was, he was broke, and there wasn't anything he could do to save himself from the fate creeping ever nearer if he couldn't figure out _some _way to get his ship back home, where he could access his stashed credits, and pay off the debtors that now loomed like black shadows on what might've otherwise been a fairly sunny horizon filled with strange new possibilities and a strange new companion to explore them with.

He'd gotten just one chance to get the credits he needed to go home, but even _that_ had gone awry. Swindle had made some pretty stupid moves in the past, but falling head-over-heels for his own merchandise took the cake!

Oh, how Fortune took its revenge for all those stellar cycles of smooth-talking!

Swindle sat down and tapped his lip thoughtfully, gazing distantly through a window at distant stars. Surely this wasn't the way it was going to end. There was _always_ a way out, there had to be.

The hall was silent as he sat alone, just watching the stars go by. Nobody bothered him; they were all too busy in the clinic's other wings, probably getting things ready for the war on everyone's lips. Decepticon and Autobot alike would be taking up arms pretty soon, and he imagined it would be pretty big business for First Aid and his goons. He was completely alone with his thoughts.

The real problem he had, above everything else, was the very lovely people he owed money to. They weren't exactly the most forgiving types, and they were going to come after him to collect pretty soon. If he didn't have their credits then, there wouldn't be any extensions, just hard punishment. And oh boy, were they ever creative when it came to exacting punishments.

Swindle smirked, rubbed at his forehead, and finally just started laughing. Stress and irony had gotten the better of him.

It was funny how things worked out, in the long run. This was the galaxy's finest clinic, and it was run by a glitchy ex-Decepticon just as materialistic and money-grubbing as his old pal Swindle, the illegal weapons merchant. And Swindle was here because an old business partner had gotten a little greedy himself- and it was just starting to occur to him that he probably needed to give old Lockdown a call if he was ever going to dig himself out of his mess. This mess that wouldn't have even happened if he hadn't picked up Wasp, who was supposed to be the answer to all his problems. Of course, if he _hadn't_ picked up Wasp, there was no telling what might've happened to Swindle, lying there in the hold of his own ship. He probably would've just up and died anyway. And then he wouldn't have _any_ problems.

Fortune was such a _bitch_!

When Swindle next approached Wasp, he no longer looked like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. In fact, he was grinning that familiar seedy, comforting grin, and came bearing treats for the former Autobot.

Wasp looked up at the arms dealer and returned the look with an awkward smile, slightly restricted by the shape of his jaw. He didn't feel like being hostile or feisty. In fact, he was feeling really mellow right now, almost _sane_, and that felt good.

"Hey there, Wasp." Swindle greeted. "Didn't get _too_ bored without me, did you?"

"Did okay," Wasp answered. "_I_ didn't get too bored. Practiced talking and stuff."

"Ah, excellent." Swindle said. "Here, I brought you a few goodies." He offered the treats, which Wasp eagerly accepted and shamelessly started scarfing down.

The weapons merchant sat down next to Wasp and leaned back in his seat. The ex-Autobot didn't care to think too much about why Swindle's mood had changed so drastically in the mere mega-cycles since he'd left. What mattered was that suddenly he had Swindle back, the way he was supposed to be, and that if he prodded him about it then he'd probably just go right back to freaking out or something.

"Thanks Swindle-bot." Wasp said between bites of his treats.

Swindle gave a little chuckle. "Yeah, no problem." He said nonchalantly.

There was a pause, until slowly, unexpectedly, Swindle's arm crept out behind Wasp and wrapped itself around his shoulder, causing the smaller mech to tense up. Swindle pulled Wasp up against himself, resting his companion's side against his own. Wasp stayed very still and tense for a moment before just giving up and going along with it, leaning his weight onto the much larger Decepticon.

Wasp found that there was something very nice about this. He was actually pretty comfortable. He liked having Swindle there, and he had this feeling like something had changed for the better, though he couldn't quite describe what it was. His own physical condition, and Swindle's mood, and maybe some other things too. Deeper things that had to do with connections and the spark. Also, he had treats, and that helped a little too.

"Don't mind, do you?" Swindle asked, in a tone that indicated he probably didn't care either way.

"Nah." Wasp said between bites.

The two sat wordlessly until Wasp finished eating. It wasn't the kind of awkward pause that occurs when one person starts eating and the other person doesn't have anything and the first person's too rude to offer him any, but more like the kind of contented pause between two people who haven't got anything to say at the moment and are just happy to be together, alive, and intact. Then again, it was also like the kind of quiet where one person dozes off and the other person has a snack, but the second one sounds better.

Wasp looked up at Swindle, who was, in fact, starting to doze off, and gave a soft huff. The ex-Autobot wiped his face with the back of his servo, then used his long fingers to lightly clean his antennae. To be honest, he was still very bored, and feeling pretty tired after the operation and all the horrible, panic-inducing poking and prodding that came with it.

So, he stretched up against the drowsy merchant. He was content not to rouse Swindle, but instead to take advantage of the situation and the opportunity to use him as a rather large, hard, drab olive pillow.

He knew that Swindle had also been operated on, and unlike Wasp, he hadn't taken any time to rest afterward, which of course left him drained. It was probably because of whatever had him so worked up. In a way, it reminded Wasp of his own ordeal, and that gave him something to connect to.

That made him feel… Sympathetic toward Swindle? No, that wasn't it.

Less wary, and more accepting of Swindle? Yes, that was more like it. Maybe even a kind of understanding towards the merchant. He could feel a sort of begrudging trust had grown between the two of them.

Wasp appreciated what the salesbot had done for him, and he knew that as much as he hated it, things really had changed between the two of them in a lot of ways. It scared him, because he was actually starting to wonder if he wouldn't rather stay on Swindle's stupid ship than move on to hunt down Bumble-bot and the others responsible for ruining Wasp's life, for getting him locked in the stockades with all those horrible bots with their horrible hands.

Wasp shuddered slightly. He pushed his head under Swindle's arm, and tried to relax. He would never have to think about those things again, if he didn't want to. He still wasn't convinced he should ever abandon his quest for revenge, but at least he didn't have to stay stuck in the memories of what had happened in the past. Things were looking up now, and he had only the future ahead of him.

As Wasp had this small but sort of profound epiphany, the dozing Swindle's arm tightened slightly against him, and moved to pull the small bot up against his chassis. And the ex-Autobot let him.


End file.
